


The Saga of the Slave Queen

by burntmythroatskullingmytea (Tytoaster)



Series: The Mac Curitin Cycle [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Captivity, F/M, Family, Historical, Ireland, Murder, Sexual References, Slavery, Slow Burn, Violence, raiding and all that entails
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 104,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9810347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tytoaster/pseuds/burntmythroatskullingmytea
Summary: Two worlds collide. As the Vikings invade Ireland, some rise to become heroes, while others sink into despair.  One family's struggle to survive sparks a whole chain of events that will change the course of history. And at the centre of it all is Ethna, a simple, Gaelic girl that a certain young Viking Prince takes interest in.





	1. Prologue- Odin's advice to man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In future chapters, I will tag things in the notes or the individual chapters that will Trigger people I will post warnings at the start of each chapter.  
> warnings: none

* * *

"A snapping bow, a burning flame

A grinning wolf, a grunting boar,

A raucous crow, a rootless tree.

A breaking wave, a boiling kettle,

A flying arrow, an ebbing tide,

A coiled adder, the ice of a night,

A bride's bed talk, a broadsword,

 A bear's play, a prince's children, 

A witches welcome,  **The wit of a slave,**

A sickly calf, a corpse still fresh,

A brother's killer encountered upon

The highway, a house half burned,

A racing stallion who has wrenched a leg,

 **Are never safe: let no man trust them**. " 

* * *

 

Hávamál- (advice from Odin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this quote nicely portrayed the tone of the story and thought it would be an interesting prologue. I also have so I have been reading over the story and noticing the first few chapters are particularly bad and I have been meaning to edit them for a while. I will be doing this slowly and eventually as of now Chapters one and two have been edited. They aren't that different, just a bit more detailed and revised. And for those expecting a new chapter, sorry, I am nearly done, you'll get it soon.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	2. Another day of quiet village life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, blood, battle, gore, death.

* * *

It was a day like any other in the quiet village of Leamh. The sun was fast disappearing behind the forest that engulfed the village like a cloak. Noiseless chatter and the bleating of animals lingered in the air along with the smell of smoke and drying fish. Women and girls toiled over boiling pots providing meals for their family. Young boys herded the animals into their pens for the impending night. Men hauled their nets out of the river and divided the catch.

 Today had been a good day on the water, the smile on her father's face foretold it. 

Focusing her attention on the task at hand, Ethna mindlessly stirred the pot before her. She kept a watchful eye her younger sister Peigi, who was playing with her rag doll on the dirt floor. Sighing, she gazed out the window. The young men, including two of her brothers and her betrothed, should return from their hunting trip soon. Again, everything was an ordinary, normal, uneventful day for the village of Leamh. Or, it was until her sister-in-law Maeve tore through the trees screaming words that struck fear into the hearts of all who heard them;  
“Gall! GALL! Run! Everybody run! GALL!”

Ethna felt her heart stop within her chest; Gall, or as they called themselves; Vikings.

"God help us all," she whispered.

* * *

  
 Four days of sailing over the wretched waves, tossing to and throw.  Two more days than they needed to after being blown off course.  Four tedious days of searching for a land that, until now, was only rumoured to exist.

He hated the sea. His stomach seemed to roll along with the waves. He longed to feel the solid unmoving ground beneath him. It won't be long, he told himself. Before him was a glorious sight; Eire, the land of the Gaels.  A new land for them to plunder and explore; new people to target his rage at. All thanks to the extravagant tales of a merchant, who sold metal work of impossibly intricate knots and tapestries with equally complicated patterns.

As much as he hated the waves, his curiosity and thirst for glory was too great. He agreed to sail with his brother’s Hvitserk and Ubbe on this raid. True, they wouldn’t be the first Norsemen to set foot here, but he would make certain that his and his brothers’ names would ring louder than any others throughout history.

“We’ll go up the mouth of that river,” his older brother Hvitserk ordered the helmsman. “If what the merchant said is true, there will be a few fishing villages we'll raid for slaves, and then the monastery we'll sack for gold!” There was a thunderous uproar of excitement. Normally he would have some form of input or contradiction to his brother’s orders but, this time there was nothing he thought to add to this plan. They were not warring with the Gaels, yet. He was intrigued by these strange lands and strange people. They were testing the waters, seeing what they were up against. 

As they sailed into the mouth of the river his older brother Ubbe left the conversation he was having with some of the other men.  
“So little brother, what do you hope to achieve on this raid?” Ubbe leant on the side of the boat next to him.  
“Glory, fame, riches, respect… to prove that I am just as capable as any man brother,” he replied his standard answer, hoping it would suffice.  
Ubbe smiled and looked out into the forest, “I believe that our trip to England established that...” Ivar smiled fondly, remembering his fortifications at York and that brave warrior priest he had the honour of sending back to his false god.  
“Also, brother,” he added with a smirk knowing his next words would make Ubbe most uncomfortable, “I want to kill as many of those filthy Christians as I can. I’ve heard this land is full of them.”  He watched Ubbe’s smile disappear. It seemed he to wanted to say something in protest but his attention was captured by something else. 

Hvitserk, who must have overheard them, wandered over and smirked.  
“Ivar,” he nudged him, “Riches shouldn’t be that hard to find if all the women look like that!” He laughed pointing to the coast line.

A fair-haired young woman stood wide-eyed, at the edge of the water, a basket of what looked like seaweed resting on her hip.

While his brothers ogled at her, he rolled his eyes and counted how long she stood frozen in shock. One... two... thre- She dropped the basket and turned to on her heels and began to sprint, one of his men drew their bow aiming for her.

"No," he ordered, watching as the blonde woman turned and ran screaming frantically in foreign gibberish. "I want to see what these people will do, it is only fair we give them a chance," he said with confidence .  “Ready yourselves, it appears we are near the first village,” he smiled picking up his crutches. 

Time to meet the locals.

* * *

  
The world outside continued to melt down into chaos. People screamed. Children cried. Men drew hunting knives, passed around pitchforks and lit torches. They were either brave, stupid, or both. Ethna knew they were all going to be slaughtered or carried off as slaves if they stood and fought. She had no plan for getting dragged off. 

She knew she couldn't stay here. Even if the young men got back in time, they were not trained fighters, they wouldn’t be much help. The Gall would be upon them soon.

  
“Peg!” She called behind her. Her mind went to her young sister, she had to protect her. The only way those bloody heathens would take Peigi was to pry her from the arms of her cold dead corpse. She looked to the setting sun, then at her sister. If we make it far enough into the forest before the sun goes down, they won't be able to follow us in the dark, she reasoned. She wasn't afraid of the forest like most of the others, no, she knew it like the back of her hand. She ventured into it often to collect Herb's for Fennore.  While the other's feared it and fled toward the church, Ethna looked to the forest, her old friend and decided that it would there that they would be safe. She turned back into her home and snatched a sack from the ground.

“Ethy what's happenin’? Why's everyone so scared?” Peigi looked up at her with round green eyes filled with fear. Ethna hurriedly stuffed provisions, blankets, a small cooking pot and rope into the sack. She rushed past Peigi as she cried and snatched the knives from the kitchen, wrapping them in cloth before stuffing them into the sack also.  
“What's goin’ on?” Her sister tugged on her sleeve with teary eyes, “Where are we goin’?”  
“Peg, some bad people are comin’, they want to take us away,” she explained while scrounging around for what little money they had. “We're goin’ to play hide and seek, we really don't want to get found. We can’t let the bad people win.” She hoped the dumbed down explanation would be enough to satisfy the four-year-old for the moment. Ethna found the money under her father's pillow and pocketed it. She pulled her mother's cloak around her and helped her sister fasten her small jacket. “Peg look at me,” she placed her hands on her sister's shoulders, kneeling down to her level. “You've got to promise to be quiet and do everythin’ I say okay?”  
“Okay,” her sister nodded with uncertainty.  
“Good, I want you to hold on to this lantern, don't let it go,” she instructed taking the lantern from the wall and placing the handle in her sister's tiny hands.

Grabbing her sister's free hand she clambered out the door not bothering to shut it.

"I lost Fion! go back!" Peigi screamed in protest looking back at her discarded ragdoll.

"He's a brave doll! He will be fine by himself," Ethna assured her sister and kept pushing against the swarm of people everywhere. It appeared the young men had come back. Most were rushing about trying to gather their loved ones.

Amongst the throng, she spotted her father hobbling with his cane, courtesy of his severely hunched back. His green eyes searching the crowd.  
“Da!” She screamed.  
“Ethna! Peigi! Go, get out of ‘ere!” He shouted back, his eyes filled with concern.  
“Not without you!” She retorted making her way towards him.  
“I'll only slow you down, get out of ‘ere!” She ignored him and continued to push through the people until a firm arm gripped her wrist. Brennan. Her oldest brother.  
“Go!” Brennan ordered. He held his wife Maeve’s wrist in his other hand, “Take my wife with you, go into the forest, hide in the old fox den. I'll find you later.”

“What about Eoin, Fabian and Connor?” She asked. She hadn’t seen her twin brother or her betrothed come back from the hunt. She also hadn’t seen her younger brother, who had been missing since earlier on that day.  
“I'll try and find ‘em,” Brennan promised, he then kissed Maeve on the lips quickly yet passionately. “I will find you Maeve, I promise.” Maeve nodded as the tears welled in her eyes.  
“Don't be a hero Brennan, don't be stupid,” Ethna hugged her brother tightly, “There's no shame in livin’ to fight another day,” she instructed. He simply nodded looking at each of them before ordering them to get out of there as he turned and ran towards the dock. Ethna held back tears as she looked at her father for what she knew was going to be the last time. “I love you da!”  
“Ethy and peg, my lovely lasses, I love you too. Now go on, git! Take care of ‘em Ethy!” She turned and tore towards the forest dragging her screaming sister and shaking sister-in-law behind her as her own vision turned blurry with tears.

* * *

  
They arrived at the first village just after sunset.  
It appears that the woman's gibberish had raised the alarm, not that it did much good. As they neared the village they saw men running around like maniacs. Someone screamed a command in their language and the men of the village formed up into one mass. As they landed their long boats on the bank they were met with men of all ages covered in blood and tears, wielding hunting knives, torches and pitchforks.

 Most stood shaking fearfully, a select few stood bravely. He thought it quite pitiful. The men obviously didn't know how to defend themselves. They deserved what was coming to them; they were obviously too weak to defend what was theirs. He did wonder, however, where the blood came from if they hadn’t even attacked yet. He reasoned the stupid peasants probably stabbed themselves, running around like that. He balanced himself on a fence post at the edge of the village as his raiders marched up from the bank. 

A round, well-dressed man with an ornate sword was pushed forward. The fat man was obviously their chief. He stood up straight and looked into Hvitserk’s eyes, fear quaking off him.

 _“Leave this village, you will not find any plunder.”_ The man spoke shakily in his own nonsense. Ivar nor his brothers understood what the man said. No one knew this language.  
“Well, what should we do? Turn and leave?” Hvitserk asked them all sarcastically, they all chuckled and snickered. “Or should kill these petty men, take what they have and make camp here?!” A thunderous roar was exhaled. “Well then... What are we waiting for?!” He shouted. There was a tremendous screech as the mass rushed forward.

The Gaels scattered. Some ran back into the village, some towards the forest and very few stood firm. The air was soon filled with screams and clashing metal. 

The area was lit with torches of the village and the ones the men held in their hands. However as the skirmish raged, the light diminished asone by one both the Gaels and their torches fell to the ground. Ivar drew his bow and shot at the cowards that ran, picking them off easily. 

He made quick work of an older man that had the courage to charge him. He was killed quickly, letting out a yelp of agony when the arrow speared through his eye into the depths of his skull. He watched the man stagger a few steps then topple to the ground joining his clansmen on the bloody ground.

A few men were still fighting while some gave chase to the Gaels that ran off laughing at what sport this was. Hearing angry shouts and curses he turned to see a young scrawny man with raven hair emitting the grunts as he struggled with Hvitserk. 

The Gael appeared to be not much older than himself. He fought Hvitserk with a fish net and pitchfork and appeared to be winning. It was fascinating. He had never seen such a technique. He admired the man's rage and determination as he skillfully trapped his brother with the net and flipped him onto the ground. The Gael then tried to ram his pitchfork through his brother's chest, but Hvitserk rolled out of the way of each jab. Ivar supposed that he should probably intervene. 

"Such a waste," he murmured lifted his bow and took aim.  He sighed as he lined up the young man's head. Suddenly, Ivar found himself on the ground. A body had collided with him before he could release the arrow, knocking him off his perch. An angry raven-haired man glared down at him, this one, however, was taller and older. The other's  older brother perhaps Ivar noted. The man pointed a long dagger towards him and Ivar drew his axe, preparing to bury it deep in the Gael's chest. He stared at the man's green eyes intensely, daring him to move first.

A pained cry echoed around them and the older Gael lost interest in him immediately. He sprinted off in the direction of who he now assumed was his younger brother.

Ivar picked himself up of the floor and searched for his brother. He spotted Hvitserk untangling himself while the older man grabbed his younger brother under the arms and started to drag him towards the dark forest. The younger man clutched his arm and wailed at the arrow potruding from it. Ivar then spotted the culprit behind Hvitserk, discarding a borrowed bow; Ubbe.

Now it was over. The Gaels had all died or fled, with the exception of the chief, who had surrendered. Pathetic. As Ubbe neared him Ivar shook his head at him.

"Why did you do that?" He sneered.

"Do what Ivar? I have done lots of things, to what are you referring?" Ubbe asked and sheathed his sword. 

"Why did you let them go?" Ivar specified with an accusatory glare. 

"You'll see," Ubbe smirked and tapped the top of his head as he walked past. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	3. Up close and personal with the Gaels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains Violence, choking and stalking? (General Creepiness?)

* * *

"Why did you let them go? You had them!" he asked Ubbe again, furiously.

"What are they going to do, huh? I doubt they'll be back, anyway if you look around you might notice something," he stated and looked around gesturing that there was something important to be observed.

"What?" Hvitserk asked puzzled. Ivar scanned the deserted village and the bodies in front of him. At first, it eluded him too, so he careful hobbled around the bodies and made his way into the village to see for himself along with the rest of the raiders.

Their houses were a conglomerate of wooden planked doors, mud and stick walls and flaxen roofs. The structures were clustered together haphazardly, with the exception of what seemed like the closest thing to their great hall. A long wooden building stood out from the rest. They all unanimously decided to head toward the building.

Ducking under the washing still strung up and smelling the food cooking on fires still burning in homes, he slowly hobbled behind everyone in the eerie silence. As he passed by one home his crutches hit something soft and flimsy. He stooped down to examine the item, a crudely constructed rag doll. He picked up the doll turning it overseeing that it was stuffed with hay. He felt strangely drawn to the item. 

"Who owns you?" He questioned as he pocketed it. It then dawned on him.

"Where are the women and children?" Ivar stated rhetorically.

"Exactly!" Ubbe smiled, "If we can track those two Gaels, they will lead us to where they're hiding them, then we can take them as slaves."  Ivar was impressed, it was a sound plan. Or rather, it was until they entered the main building of the village and horror greeted them. Ivar could do nothing but stare at the gruesome spectacle in awe.

"What in Thor's name happened here?" Hvitserk muttered staring at the mess that flies had already begun to gather to.

Ubbe shook his head sadly at the horrific sight, "We should make camp here tonight we'll sail onward tomorrow."  

* * *

Ivar struggled to sleep. He still felt disappointed, even after they had decided to have some fun with the fat chief, he found that it did nothing by salt the wound.  He was too furious;  How dare they take our glory, he seethed inwardly. This raid had started so well, but after they killed all the villagers they found very little, almost nothing. He wondered why the men fought so desperately to defend so little. He couldn't understand, but then again, he had never been in their shoes.

After tossing and turning he, let out a feral grunt and slithered out of his bed. He could tell it was a wretched hour of the night but he didn't care, he needed something to do, now. He sluggishly wrenched himself past sleeping men and forward into the forest on his crutches.

"Where are you going, Ivar?" Ubbe inquired from somewhere behind him. It must have been his watch.  Ivar rolled his eyes. He was not a child, he didn't need Ubbe to look out for him anymore.

"To kill something!" He grunted.

"Well be sure you don't kill yourself brother, these woods are unfamiliar, don't get lost. Be back by midmorning," Ubbe instructed. 

"I will be back when I get back," Ivar spat. He watched Ubbe hold his hands up in surrender and walk off, continuing his round.  

Straining, he lowered himself to the ground and leant his crutches against a tree. The ground was too uneven, he would move more easily without them. He continued to haul himself deeper into the forest, eager to hunt.

It was dark, the trees blocked out the what little glow the moon let off.  He crawled until he felt the texture of upturned soil. He stopped and squinted at the ground before him. he grinned to himself as he found fresh indents in the earth; a deer's.

* * *

Ethna had been extremely careful in covering her tracks. She carried her little sister on her shoulders and told Maeve to step exactly where she had stepped.  Where she could, she stepped on the roots of the trees and stones and she used her cloak and branches to scrub out her footprints every once and awhile.  All things she had learnt from her brothers in their fiercely competitive games of hide and seek.

The young women were halfway to their destination a mile west of the village when the piercing echoes of pain and screams of death rang out in the distance lingering with the animals of the night. With each scream, she felt as if someone had stabbed her.

These were the cries of her dying clansmen. Sure, she was an outcast. She and her siblings treated with disdain because they were the offspring of the hunchback, but they were still the people she sat with at festivals, talked to on walks and treated when they were ill, they were still her clan. Ethna stopped for a second and hung her head, that should be me alongside my brothers, fighting, screaming and dying, her mind nagged. With an unsettling feeling of helplessness and guilt, she pressed on, the weight of Peigi on her shoulders creating a dull ache.

By the time they reached the den and cowered inside, the cries had stopped almost as abruptly as they had started. Tears pricked her eyes as she realised that her brothers and her betrothed were most likely dead. Maeve didn't look much better, she sat with her legs drawn to her chest, back against the wall, shoulders shaking up and down, wracked with sobs. Solemnly, Ethna set up the lantern in the middle of the small, dirt, hovel her brothers had made all those years ago. She began to unpack the few items she bought with her.

"Ethy," Ethna paused as she pulled the blankets out of the sack and turned to the tiny girl, "I want to go home," Peigi sniffed.

"We can't, Peg," she sighed, motioning for her to come closer. Ethna brought her sister into her arms and wrapped a rough woollen blanket around the small girl and sat her down between her and Maeve. "We have to stay here for a while," she explained.

"Where's Eoin, Connor and Brenny? Are they comin' or did the bad people get 'em?" Peigi asked quietly and Maeve convulsed as another wave of sobs wracked her body.

"They're comin' Peg, we just need to pray they get 'ere safely, God will look after 'em," she assured the girl. 

She didn't know if God had protected them, but even if he hadn't, they were in a better place now, that thought brought some comfort to her, but not much. She took a loaf of bread from her bag and broke it in half and then broke one half into three and passed it around. She put the other half away for them to eat tomorrow.

"Dear heavenly Father, thank you..." She choked on the word,  finding it very hard to be thankful in that moment, "... We thank you for the food we have and we bless the hands that prepared it, thank you, father, that we are able to share this meal, together... I pray that you return our loved ones to us safely, In Jesus' name we pray, amen," She half-heartedly crossed herself and lifted the bread to her lips.  

* * *

The sun would start to peak over the horizon and chase the moon away soon. Ethna admired the purple haze of the sky caused by that odd time where it was neither evening or morning. Peigi had fallen fast asleep. Maeve was drifting between mindlessly picking at the threads of her blanket and dozing. Ethna was wide awake after a few hours of sleep, her mind was restless. It buzzed with one question; what they should do today? Should they look for survivors? Look for food and water? Bury the dead? Try and warn the next villages or the monastery? she held her head in her hands and sighed, unable to decide.

 She was drawn out of her thoughts by a crack of a branch that echoed loudly around the forest. Ethna's head snapped up to attention. She heard leaves rustle out there in the darkness. whatever it was it was close. Maeve whimpered and covered her eyes with her hands. Ethna shot forward and put out the lantern, plunging them into the den's darkness.

"They've found us, oh God! What are they goin' to do to us? Oh, God!" Maeve burbled hysterically as she rocked back and forth. Ethna placed her palm over her sister in law's mouth and hushed her before her wails drew too much attention.

"Shhh... We don't know if it's Gall, it could be my brothers or an animal," she whispered. With her eyes adjusted, she took out a knife, shrugged off her cloak.  Maeve gently woke up Peigi. Ethna glanced at both of them, their eyes filled with fear.  I promised to take care of them, she told herself with resolve.

"Stay here," she whispered. Ethna knew very well that if there were, in fact, Gall in the woods she could be killed, but there was a chance that she might be able to distract them and lead them away from her sisters. 

"I'll go outside and check. You stay put and look after each other," she whispered her orders and slowly crept up to the entrance of the den. She paused before she left, "I'll come back if it is nothing. If I don't come back, don't look for me. If you hear me scream, don't come after me. I'm as good as dead if they catch me. I don't need you to join me in heaven before your time. Stay here for a few days then head along the Southern coast, the Gall will most likely head further west using the river Suir to head inland," she instructed quietly, "Pray for me sisters."

Like a cat, Ethna crept through the surrounding forest. Darting between trees and crouching behind the undergrowth, she made her way towards the source of the sound. Her hand clasped the knife handle so tightly, her knuckles turned white. Her ears rang with the sound of her own heart beating frantically.

 Crack. There is was again. The sound was then followed by the crunch of leaves. Ethna cautiously crouched behind a bush and peeked out from behind it. She let out a tremendous sigh of relief as a doe trotted past.

 The doe's coat was a strange pale white that seemed to glow in the sheer light. She had never seen a white deer before, she thought to herself, but then she was struck with a conflicting feeling of deja vu. Where had she seen this before? It didn't matter, she concluded, she should get back to her sisters.

"Stupid beast," she cursed as she made a move to stand. Her stomach dropped suddenly and she froze. the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, prickled by someone's gaze. Slowly, she turned around and jumped. Four body lengths in front of her a silhouette was crawling towards her. Again, she sighed in relief, "Connor you creepy twit, why'd you have to scare me like that?"

The form froze realising it had been discovered. It was then she realised that the body in front of her was significantly larger than that of her scrawny, twelve-year-old brother. She scampered to her feet as the crawling man clawed his way towards her faster than she thought possible.

 Keeping the knife in front of her, she backed up clumsily. Her breaths quickened into sharp inhales and exhales. She turned to run but tripped backwards over a root jutting out the ground and grunted as her body sprawled onto the dirt. The knife fell from her hand. Flipping on to her stomach and she tried to clamber into a sprint, but the figure grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her towards him with almost no effort. Ethna shrieked and clawed desperately at the knife out of her reach as he clambered up her body. She let out a frustrated growl and tried to twist around thrashing her arms and legs. She managed to turn back over to face her assailant.

It was a young Gall. He was muscular with dark, braided hair, cropped at the sides. His white teeth were bared in a malicious grin that had her insides twisting. His eyes were a cold icy blue that seemed to stain even the whites of his eyes. They gleamed with an excitement that disturbed her greatly.Everything about him screamed danger.

She struggled fruitlessly to shove him off as he pulled himself to sit on her chest. For a moment he stared at her and narrowed his eyes. Then his hands closed around her throat. 

At first she panicked. Writhing and gagging, grasping aimlessly at his arms trying to relieve some pressure and allow air into her lungs. She looked up into his eyes with all the rage she could muster. She was not going to die like this. Think, think, think! She glanced up spotting his quiver and bow. I can't reach that,  I need something closer, her mind raced. He has to have a weapon on his belt, she suddenly realised. He seemed to delight in her reddening face as she gagged and choked. Distract him! her mind screamed. She looked back at him feigning a look of hopelessness as her lungs burned. She let herself go limp, bring her arms to rest by her side and whimpered to add to her performance. 

She continued to exaggerate her sputters in hopes of keeping his attention on her face. Assuming he is right-handed, his weapon should be fastened to his left side, which is my right, she reasoned. Slowly and carefully, her right hand searched around for a weapon at his side. Her fingertips brushed the handle of a dagger or hatchet, she was not sure. Slapping, at his forearms again with her left arm, she closed her hand around what she now could tell was a hatchet. With her vision starting to blur she raised the hatchet and brought it to his throat. His grip immediately loosened. Coughing and gulping the air in greedily she pressed the weapon to his throat and forced him to back off her.

* * *

She held the axe at his throat as she moved out from under him. He was impressed, he had underestimated the young woman before him. He grinned up at her. Very clever, he praised silently.

 He remembered crawling over the ridge in search of the deer he had been tracking. He also remembered the feeling of complete shock seeing a young woman slinking around in the dark. Stalking her for a while, he watched as she tread carefully, fearful of what was out there, jumping at every sound. It empowered him to know that he was the reason for her feigned bravery. 

He remembered watching as she haunted the woods, a pale spectre darting between trees. Her dark hair was loosely braided back into a long, thick, plat that dangled down at her waist. From what he could tell she seemed on the tall side for a woman. He also observed that despite the half-starved look about her there was evidence for potential hips under her oversized, coarse, woollen dress. To him, she was immediately beautiful. Not the kind of beautiful the women of his homeland were, no, a different kind. She was unique and intriguing. She was a curious, creature and he wanted her. He wanted to have her, to hold and feel her. He wanted to show her off to his brothers, he wanted to make them jealous of him for once. He wanted to make her his.

Yet, in the same moment, he hated her. He hated her with all of his being. He didn't know anything about this foreign peasant. He had only seen her doey round face for a few moments and she had stirred up so much within him. He felt somewhat weak and inadequate before her. He hated himself for feeling like this, but it wasn't his fault. It was hers. He wanted nothing more than to slit her throat and bathe in her blood. He wanted to carve an eagle into her back, rip out her lungs and make her watch as she took her last breath. Her crime? That he couldn't have her no matter how much he wanted her. Her crime was that she made him feel like he had never felt before, by doing absolutely nothing.

 That, was the joy and rage he felt as he looked into her mossy green eyes and squeezed the life from her. The satisfaction in knowing that if he could not have her, then no one would.

Now, he looked back into the same mossy eyes as she pressed the blade of his own axe to his throat. She was smarter than he had given her credit for. She had unknowingly proven to him that she was worthy of keeping her life. Not only did he find her alluring, now, he found her admirable, and that just increased his desire. Maybe he couldn't have her the way he wanted to, but he could still hold her, feel and touch her. She could still be his. He could try.

 For a few moments, they stared at each other. He smirked. He could see the cogs turning in her head. She knew what was suppose to happen but she couldn't bring herself to execute it.

"Do it!" He smirked. She frowned in confusion at his strange, sounding language. He grinned and leant into the blade, she drew it back quickly. He cackled hysterically. Without warning, he sprung forward taking the axe from her hands. She let out a yelp of surprise and took a few steps back.

He raised the axe and she began to sprint away. No, you don't, you're not getting away from me that easily, he smirked to himself. Taking aim, he expertly threw his axe and with a resonating thunk, the axe pinned her dress to a tree. She was jerked back by the sudden snag. She grasped the handle and desperately tugged it, frantically trying to free herself.

" _Stay back! No. No, nonono… Help! Someone help me!"_ The girl screamed nonsense frantically.

He slowly crawled towards her, "I'm not finished with you yet," he growled. She continued to struggle with the axe. The fear was back in her eyes and he revelled in it. He didn't know how he was going to get her back to camp, but he was determined. Perhaps I can knock her out and get someone to help me get her back to the village. _.._ His train of thought was disrupted by a blunt pain at the back of his head. Before his vision went black, he saw the girl's look of relief and her tears of joy as a young man with fiery red hair ran to her and embraced her.

" _Fabian!"_ He heard the girl exclaim as he faded out of consciousness.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	4. Co-exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a graphic medical procedure. So if you a triggered by blood, screaming, cutting, and burning be advised that this chapter contains all of those things.
> 
> Also, to deal with different languages I've devised a key:  
> Native language to the POV is in plain text  
> foreign language to the POV is in Italics E.g. If Ivar's POV then Gaeleige is Italicised and if Ethna's POV Old Norse is Italicised  
> Saxon is in bold text.

The sun glistened through the trees into his eyes. Where was he? How did I get outside? His head ached and his vision was fuzzy. He could smell the smoke from the small fire in front of him. He jerked forward only to be halted by rope. He looked down to see his wrists bound and his body fixed to the trunk of a tree. Him a prisoner? Inconceivable. Whoever had captured him instead of killing him was going to regret it. He racked his brain trying to remember the events that got him there. He raided that village, he remembered that. He hunted a deer, saw that young Gaelic woman, he remembered they had a scuffle, he remembered her trying to run, then he threw his axe... then blank. He heard voices, indefinable words. It was then he realised they were in another language.

 _"Why do you call him Dane?"_ A woman.

" _I_ _s that what they called them in England?"_ No. Two women,

 _"Yes, we called them Danes or Northmen."_   Two women and a man. They murmured from off to the side of him. He craned his neck to see who his captors were.

 “ _You look funny.”_ A small voice giggled incoherently in front of him. He turned to face a young girl, she held her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels. Even with him sitting against the tree trunk she was shorter than him. He rolled his eyes and bared his teeth at the girl, hoping to scare her away. The girl just simply stared at him curiously. She was a spitting image of the young Gaelic woman, except she had freckles dusted across her nose. She would have to be her younger sister, she was too old to be her daughter, then again he didn't know of the Gaels' customs, he couldn't be sure. 

She pulled something out from behind her back, “ _Thank you for bringin’ Fion back to me.”_ She muttered something shyly. She held the doll he had pocketed back in the village. Well, now I know who owns it, he snorted. She seemed happy to have it back. She looked back up at up at him, her brow furrowed as if in immense concentration.

“ _Where do you come from? Fabian says you’re a devil, but I don’t think that’s true, you look like a man to me. Ethy says you came from the Northern lands and you were driven out by dragons. Is that true?”_ She looked up at him expectantly. Ivar however wasn’t interested in the child's incessant gibberish. All he heard was the word Fabian. He remembered now. Fabian was the redheaded man. He was responsible for this.

“ _Peg! Get away from him!”_ The young woman wrenched the girl back towards her. He grinned up at her.

“Nice to see you again.” She shot a poisoned glance towards him, assuming he said something derogatory. She turned to her sister and lectured her about talking to the prisoner. He smirked watching the exchange. His smirk twisted into a snarl when Fabian waltzed over to the small group to gloat.

 _“We must be the luckiest villagers in all of Eire, to be graced with the presence of the renowned Danes_ ,” he spat at him. Ivar didn’t even flinch as Fabian’s spit splashed across his chest. He just glared at him. He wondered if his blood was the same colour as his hair. Probably not, but there was only one way to find out.

The young woman turned from her sister and to Fabian, her lips pressed into a thin line. She glanced briefly at Ivar.

“ _Fabian, I don’t think angering him further is the wisest thing to do,”_ She seemed to warn the man. He didn’t seem to take kindly to this.

“ _It wasn’t wise of him to attack you or my village! Besides what can he do?”_ The two then began to bicker.

_“If he gets free he will have a grudge against you.”_

_“He is just a cripple and he is at our mercy.”_

_“You know very well that a cripple can wreak as much havoc as any man.”_ Whatever she had just said had shut him up. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by an excited cheer as a the blonde woman he recognised from the river ran past them.

* * *

 

“Brennan!” Maeve cried she ran to her husband.

“Brenny!” Peigi exclaimed excitedly.

Ethna though, noticed that something was horribly wrong. Brennan was not alone. Her twin brother Eoin was strung between Brennan and another young man’s shoulders. Coilean. The Chief's second son. By far the most pompous and incompetent person in the entire village. How he had managed to survive, Ethna could only guess. Her attention snapped back to Eoin. His eyes were sealed shut, he was limp and paler than usual. She then spied the arrow embedded in his arm.

“He got shot, he was fine till this mornin’, then he collapsed… He’s losin’ blood, I don’t know what to do Ethy,” Brennan stammered with distress. She needed to assess the wound, focus on the problem first then find a solution and treat it quickly, but most importantly she needed to stay calm, Fennore had taught her that.   

“Put him down over there, make him comfortable!” She pointed and the rock near the fire. Brennan and Coilean did as she commanded.

“Brenny, what’s wrong with Eoin?” Peigi’s small voice faltered, “Is Eoin dead?” Peigi started to sniffle.

“Maeve, get her out of here, she doesn’t need to see this,” Ethna ordered. Maeve scooped up the crying child and retreated into the den, trying her best to calm the distraught child.

“Fabian, I need water,” she turned to him and gestured to the pot lying near the fire. “Take the pot, find a stream and bring it back.” He just stood there for a second in shock, “NOW!” He jumped, snatched up the pot and tore off into the forest toward the river.

“Yes mam,” Coilean mocked. Ignoring him, she kneeled down at her brother's side to inspect the wound.

“What are you goin’ to do?” Brennan queried.

“I don’t know, I have never dealt with a wound like this before,” she stated bewildered.

“Well do you want me to try a pull it out?” Brennan moved to grasp the arrow.

“No!” She slapped his hand away, “That could do more harm than good.”

“So what do we do then?” Coilean and Brennan asked simultaneously.

“I don’t know!”  

Coilean scoffed, “No wonder you’re only the healer’s apprentice. What kind of healer doesn’t know how to treat a simple arrow wound?”

Brennan flushed an odd shade of red at the insult.

Ethna however stared Coilean right in the eye, “The kind of healer who’s hardest job is delivering babies and removing fish hooks…” She stopped herself. Fish hooks.  She stood up spotting what she was looking for.

“What are you doing?” She didn’t answer as she snatched an arrow from the Gall's quiver. She marched over to the tree their prisoner was tied to.

“Who’s this?” Brennan asked, noticing the prisoner for the first time.  

“Our esteemed guest, Fabian thinks we can use him as a hostage.” Brennan’s eyes widened with recognition. This was the warrior who had nearly killed Eoin. The Gall shot a venomous glare back at him. “I see you two have met,” she observed.

Ethna bent down and held the arrow in front of his face.

“This arrowhead,” she waved it, “Is it the same as that arrowhead?” She pointed to the arrow lodged in her brother. He just raised his eyebrows. Perhaps he knew Saxon. She was not as fluent as Fabian was but he had taught her some basic words and phrases to be able to communicate with the traders that came from his father’s land. Sighing, she pointed to the arrow head in her hand and back to her brother, **“Same?”** She gauged his reaction carefully. He kept his face a blank mask. He couldn’t be that stupid, she had basically spelt it out for him using actions.

 A devious thought popped into her head, perhaps he wasn't _that_ stupid. She decided to test that theory. She mustered up the worst insult she could string together with her limited vocabulary.

 **“Heathen dog.”** His eyes narrowed for a split second before he retained his blank expression. The brief slip up was all she needed, she smirked. He could understand Saxon perfectly. She stared him down and asked again, **“Same? Yes or no.”**

 **“If I am a heathen dog then you are a lowlife bitch, I will not answer to you!”** He spat.

It wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Turns out he knew how to speak Saxon, better than her. She didn’t know exactly what he said but from the sounds of it, she didn’t want to know.

“He isn’t goin’ to help?” Brennan asked. Ethna turned around and gave her brother an exasperated look.

“Yes, the prisoner who has been knocked over the head, tied to a tree and spat on by us, would love to help our dying brother.”

“So why don’t we make him talk?” Coilean suggested. Ethna paused and considered what he said. After a brief moment, she shook her head.

“It’s not worth it.  We don’t have the time. We’re just going to have to assume the arrowheads are the same,” she sighed studying the weapon judging the weight and size. “Brennan I need you to heat a knife till it is hot enough to sear flesh.” Brennan paled nodding stiffly before getting to work. “I have only dealt with fish hooks and some stab wounds, but I believe this arrow to be similar…”

“Now I definitely know why Fennore never let you become a fully fledged healer, you’re stupid. An arrow is completely different to a fish hook!” Coilean ridiculed. She saw her brother clench his fist around the knife handle, but Ethna remained un-phased by Coilean’s flak.

Calmly she replied, “Exactly, That’s is why they're similar.”

“What?” Both Coilean and Brennan exclaimed simultaneously.

“You’re a loon!” Coilean jeered

“No, look,” She held up the arrow, “Both an arrow and a fish hook are designed to pierce the skin and lodge itself in the body. A fish hook however is designed to come back out, an arrow is not.”

“Yeah, So what? We leave it there?” Coilean asked perplexed.

“No you fool, we cut it out!” Ethna snapped, “Hence the knife,” she explained cynically. Coilean fumed, this peasant had just insulted the chief’s son. He pointed a finger at her and prepared to reprimand her, but was interrupted by Brennan.

“If you came to that conclusion why did you try to talk to the prisoner?”

“I needed to find out if the arrow was barbed. Lucky for us the arrow is most likely not barbed.”

“He has a bloody arrow stickin’ out of him! How is that lucky?!” Brennan asked fiercely.

“It’s lucky because Eoin loses less of his arm,” she explained. Fabian crashed through the trees carrying the pot of water. The knife glowed a bright red. It was time.

Steeling herself she prodded at the wound making a final assessment. She jerked back when Eoin let a groan of pain. He was still partially conscious. That was a problem. Taking a second knife she cut two strips from her under dress. She grabbed a stick and parted Eoin’s lips. She couldn’t let his screams ring out to loudly. They would alert anyone nearby.

“Eoin, if you can hear me, I need you to bite down on this,” Eoin took the stick and clenched it between his teeth. “I’ll make this a quick as I can, be strong. Pray,” she stroked his forehead soothingly.

“Fabian hold his legs, Coilean and Brennan hold his arms,” She ordered grimly. Taking a deep breath she carefully dug the glowing knife into the wound and dragged it across his wound widening it. Strangled screams of agony filled the air. Eoin began to thrash.

“Hold him!” She shouted, “It'll be over soon. Stop tryin’ to move around,” she soothed. Skillfully she loosened the arrow head. Ethna praised God, it was an unbarbed arrow head. The smell of blood and burnt flesh filled their nostrils as Eoin continued to cry out.  Gently as possible Ethna slid the arrow out from his arm. She then pressed the flat of the blade to the wound once more to seal it.

“All done,” she reassured as the men let go of his limbs. Dipping a strip in the water she began to wash and bandage the wound. She looked up from her work briefly only to meet the impossibly blue eyes of the Gall. He watched her intently, she turned back to her work and shivered under his gaze.  He had observed the whole ordeal, he now sat with a contemplative stare. What is he thinking? She didn’t know, but whatever it was, it was making her uncomfortable.

* * *

 

Ubbe had stared intensely at the tree line all morning. There was no sign of his brother. It troubled him. It was now noon and Hvitserk was beginning to share his concern.

“We can’t leave without him,” Ubbe said finally.

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” Hvitserk sighed, “But our troops are getting restless, this village has no plunder. They will want to move on.”

“Give him until sundown, if he is not back by then we will go looking for him,” Ubbe resolved.

“Fine, but if we don’t find him by tomorrow I should take two thirds of the party on the ships and continue on raiding, while you look for him.” Hvitserk’s suggestion was reasonable 

 Ubbe nodded, “It’s settled then, Let us ask the gods to bring him back safely,” he agreed. Ubbe knew Ivar could handle himself very well, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there isn't much Ivar action in this chapter. But rest assured there is plenty in the up coming chapters. This chapter is supposed to show how Ethna interacts with her family and what her society is like. In the up coming chapters we will see Descension in the camp due to everyone's differences (I am looking at you Coilean) and the return of the lost brother Connor (Who is he?). So if you have any questions, feedback, Queries or comments let me know I love to hear from you all.


	5. Noughts and Crosses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings; mild course language, I don't think there are any other warnings to go with this chapter, If I have missed something please let me know.

* * *

The Gall was scowling, as was becoming his custom. Peigi was quietly humming to herself and drawing in the dirt with an arrow. Eoin sat propped up against a tree trunk looking faint. Maeve turned a spit roasting the squirrels Fabian had managed to catch earlier that morning. Everyone else sat in silence until Ethna broke it.  
“So, what are we goin’ to do?”  
“What do you mean?” Brennan asked. Ethna gave an annoyed huff; couldn’t anyone else see what needed to be done? Apparently not.  
“How long do we stay here? Should we find a place to start anew? Should we try and raise the alarm?” She voiced her numerous queries, “What should we do with the prisoner?” She added as an afterthought.

Brennan rubbed his forehead and sighed, “I don’t know the answers to any of those questions Ethy.”  
“Where’s Connor?” Ethna asked.  
“Your guess is as good as ours, all we know is that we didn’t see him at the village durin’ the battle and he wasn’t among the dead,” Eoin put forward.  
“And what of father?” Ethna asked, even though she already knew the answer.  
Brennan hung his head, “Father... rests in Christ.”  
Ethna nodded, “Was it quick?” Brennan looked at Eoin and Fabian briefly before nodding, an unspoken secret between them.  
“Why do you ask me these questions anyway?” Brennan inquired.  
“Because you’re our leader!” Ethna and Eoin answered at once while Coilean scoffed.

“Why do you think he is in charge? I am,” Coilean laughed getting to his feet, “It’s my birthright. I am Coilean O'Ruadhain, you will follow me and I will get allies of my father to form an army and beat those bloody pagans into their place,” he proclaimed. This time Eoin scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You aren’t our leader. Any right you had to rule us died with the rest of our clan, I refuse to follow a spoiled brat who turned and ran at the first battle cry,” Eoin spatt.  
“Are you callin’ me a coward?” Coilean fumed  
“Yes, I am.” Eoin sneered.  
“Boys stop it, this is petty,” Ethna stepped between them, “We can’t go to chief O'Ruadhain’s allies, we don’t have the time. We need to find Connor and warn the other villages.”

Brennan’s head picked up, “What makes you think they’ll attack other villages?”  
“Our village is worthless,” Ethna began.  
“Hey! that’s my land you’re insultin’..”  
“Shut yer trap!” Eoin threatened, “Continue, Ethy.”  
“As I was sayin’, our village doesn't have much loot the only reason they would raid it is for slaves and to make camp, my guess is they want more. I believe they’re headin’ for Waterford that’s where the tradin’ port and monastery is, on their way they’ll sack every riverside settlement they can.”  
“So, we gather an army and attack…” Coilean began.  
“What are you daft or deaf?” Eoin asked astounded.  
Fabian stepped in, “I want to hand it back to those bloody pagans as much as you do but we can’t raise an army of your father's allies, by the time we make it they'll have already come and gone. But it is possible to get to Waterford and raise the alarm, they’ll most likely be able to raise a small army to drive them off momentarily.”  
“What about the villages in between?” Ethna said uneasily, “Also there’s no way we can make it with time to spare, it’s at least a day's journey and we’ll have an; injured man, a child and two cripples, one of which is a prisoner as well as five others that will slow us down.”

“They also have boats, dependin’ how fast they can go and how many stops they make, they could’ve come and gone by the time even one of us reaches Waterford,” Eoin put forward.  
“How fast can their boats go?” Coilean asked.  
“How ‘bout you and Fabian ask the Dane?” Eoin quipped. Coilean actually considered it making the move to stand before Brennan pulled him back down.  
“Don’t bother,” Brennan sighed. He sat for a couple of moments before he finally spoke, “We could split up,” he suggested.  
“NO!” Both Ethna and Maeve exclaimed at once.  
“It’s the best way to make it in time,” Fabian agreed.  
“But you leave whoever is left behind vulnerable,” Ethna countered.

Dismayed the band hung their heads, it seemed there was no solution. Dejectedly Ethna stared into the flames that Maeve tended. Flames. She lifted her head, illuminated with an idea.  
“What about the Beacon?”  
“Yes!” Fabian exclaimed, “That’s brilliant Ethna.”  
“What Beacon?” Coilean asked.  
“In the days of war, our forefathers built a beacon on Ruadhain’s Hill. A stacked stone structure with a bowl of oil, masses of tinder and wood. Whenever they needed to send a distress signal they lit flames and on the next village’s hill the next beacon would be lit by the beacon's keeper and so on and so on until the message reached the capital,” Fabian explained.  
“We could all make it to Ruadhain’s hill by nightfall if we left now,” Ethna put forward.  
“How do we even know that they’ll see the beacon or if these beacon keepers are still around?” Eoin asked.  
“I've done business with many beacon keepers, they live away from towns so they always bulk buy supplies, and even if the next village doesn't have one they will see the light and the elders will know what it means,” Fabian explained.  
“It seems we have a plan,” Brennan stated, clapping his hands together.

“We still can leave without Connor,” Ethna interjected.  
Eoin rolled his eyes, “The twit can handle himself fine without you fawnin’ over him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was off plaguin’ the Gall.”  
“We should split up,” Brennan suggested again.  
“We told you before, no! I don't want to be apart from you again,” Maeve pleaded.  
“I think it's unwise to divide ourselves,” Ethna offered, hoping that her brother would listen to reason.  
“Fine, we'll stay together but, if Connor doesn’t show up before tomorrow, we'll have to move on together or go separate ways.” Brennan gave the ultimatum. Where on Earth could Connor be?

* * *

 

They were planning something. That's all he knew. He didn't know what but he assumed it would be something about where they would go next. Though painstakingly boring, the last couple of hours had been very productive for him. He had observed their interactions. He knew that almost everyone hated the young redhead who was some kind of noble. The raven-haired man and his younger brother were most likely related to the dark-haired girls. It also seemed that the blonde woman was the wife of the older raven-haired man judging by the way his hand was groping her arse behind their backs.

But one thing he noticed above all; Fabian was infatuated with the dark haired woman. The way he looked at her, with adoration and admiration at the same time. Every time she turned her back to him he would look after her like a lost dog, brushing against her ‘accidently’ whenever the opportunity arose. He found himself loathing this Fabian deeper and deeper with every passing second.

While they stood around making plans, the child drew in the dirt with an arrow, humming to herself. He eyed the arrow in her hand earnestly. She looked up at him and smiled, seizing the opportunity he smiled back and beckoned her over. Shyly, the girl skipped over to him. She sat down in front of him and continued to draw. She seemed to draw figures and what looked like a campfire.

 _“This is my family, and that’s you, see, you’re frownin.’”_  She chirped something and pointed at one of the figures. She looked at him gauging his reaction. He squinted and shrugged not understanding what the girl said.  
_“You don’t talk much, are you bored?”_ She asked him something. He looked longingly at the arrow and decided to nod, thinking it best to pretend to understand the child. She scooted closer started drawing lines forming a crude grid of six squares. She then drew a circle in the middle square.  
_“Your turn.”_  The girl offered him the arrow. He was shocked. He didn’t think it would be this easy. After quickly glancing in the direction of the girl’s kinsman, he saw they were deep in discussion. They wouldn’t notice. He snapped the arrow head off and tucked it into the top of his boot. He placed a finger over his lips to indicate that it was a secret. The child frowned.

 _“No, that’s not how you play.”_ She leant forward grabbed his wrist and guided them over to the grid. She took his hand and placed the broken arrow shaft in it. She pulled his bound hands towards the grid and puppeteered them to draw and X in the bottom left square.  
_“Now it’s my turn.”_ She took the shaft from him and drew a circle above his X then handed him back the arrow. It must be some kind of game, he concluded. Hesitantly he placed another X under her circle in the middle of the grid. He looked back at her to see her beaming.

 Giggling she took the arrow and drew a third circle on the middle right square then drew a line through the middle of her circles, crossing them out.  
_“That was stupid, I win.”_ The girl exclaimed something triumphantly. He understood the game now. The objective was to get three of your symbols in a line, and she had beaten him. He scowled, she was laughing at him. To spite the girl and to get rid of the evidence he hurled the arrow shaft into the surrounding forest.  
“ _You know, you’re a sore loser,”_ The girl pouted and went to find another stick to play with. He smirked to himself; she may have won their foolish game but he now had a way to escape, all thanks to the curious child.

* * *

   
“The question still remains; What should we do with the prisoner?” Brennan asked the group.  
“We can use him as a bargainin’ chip, if need be, I think we should keep him,” Maeve suggested.  
“I agree, He is worth more alive than dead. We can use him as assurance of safe passage or to get a treaty signed, he’ll give us leverage,” Fabian put forward.  
“I say we kill him, string him up somewhere they’ll see him. That way we ‘ave less dead weight and we make an example of him, send a message,” Coilean grunted.  
“I don’t think we want to send a message, if this man has friends, we’re pretty much as dead as him,” Eoin warned, “You’ve all heard of the English king’s fates?”

 Everyone grimaced, but Coilean.

“Who’s the coward now Mac Cuirtin?" Coilean smirked, however, Eoin ignored him. Disappointed by the lack of reaction he took a jab at a sensitive spot for all the Mac Cuirtins;  "I didn’t think you were the spineless one Eoin,” Coilean jeered.  
“At least I haven’t got a turnip for a brain,” Eoin shot back springing up to his feet.  
“You want a go hunchy?” Coilean clenched his fists.  
“Oh yes please, let’s see how you go without your daddy there to defend you, I could kick your fat arse even with my bung arm!” Eoin taunted, but before either of them could have at it, Brennan stepped between the both of them.  
“Save it for the enemy lads!” He commanded pushing them both back.  
“How can you allow him to piss on our family’s name like that?!” Eoin demanded.  
“This,” Brennan gestured to the band, “Is never going to work if we’re at each other’s throats, one of you, or both, need to be the bigger man and let bygones be bygones, go and cool off.” Eoin’s nostrils flared before he let out a sharp exhale and stalked off into the forest and Coilean huffed and plonked himself back down. “Ethy,” Brennan turned to his sister, “You’ve been quiet, what do you think we should do with the prisoner?”

Ethna sat, deep in thought. She murmured something, looking downward.  
“What was that?” Brennan asked.  
“I agree with Coilean,” she sighed, everyone stared at her in shock. “But, we shouldn’t make an example of him, I agree with Eoin on that. I think we should give him a quick, painless death and bury him. I've just got a bad feeling about him, he’s too dangerous to be kept alive.”

Brennan nodded, going into deep thought. He considered the points made. All were valid. He himself couldn’t decide what to do. He agreed that the prisoner was worth more alive, yet he wanted revenge for his clansmen and something didn’t sit right with him; If a cripple was on the battlefield in a foreign land, he would be there for a reason. Coming to his decision he stood up and unsheathed his hunting knife.

* * *

  
Ivar was snapped out of his scheming when multiple pairs boots filled his field of vision. He glared up at the raven-haired man, the red-haired man, Fabian and the dark-haired woman. The first thing he noticed was the long sharp blade the raven-haired man held firmly in his grasp. The second was that the blonde haired woman had whisked away the child. He looked back at them as he realised what was going to happen. No. He had so much more to achieve. He had this land to conquer, more people to kill, he had wanted to have children to pass his legacy on, however impossible it seemed. He wouldn’t die like this, he would face his foes bravely. He glared at them all, daring them to take his life, send him to Valhalla. Then something surprising happened. The man handed the knife to his sister.

 _“If you think him better off dead, then you take his life._ ” The young woman paled at her brother’s words. _“If you can’t, then he’ll continue to be our hostage.”_ She stammered before taking a deep breath and nodding. She slowly made her way to him.

Before, he thought he was going to have to fight them off with an arrowhead but now, he wasn’t so sure. Shakily, the young woman pushed his head to the side, exposing his neck. He stole a glance at her; her internal struggle voiced itself on her face, she had obviously never taken a life before. yet, the way she lined the knife between his neck and shoulder blade to sever the spinal cord and neck made him think she knew how too.  A relatively painless death if she did it quick enough, merciful not vengeful, he noted. She took another shaky breath and pointed the knife to the skin and prepared to thrust.

Then she made a mistake; she took a peek at his face. He looked up at her with the most hopeless look he could manage. She faltered. He had her. She shrunk back and focused on the blade, uncertainty plastered across her face. She prepared herself once more and applied more pressure and glanced back at his face, conflicted. this was too easy. She looked back at the knife once more and saw small red droplets starting to form.

It was the blood that finally pushed her. Weak, he dismissed as he watched her tremor violently. She stepped back and threw the knife at her brother’s feet before retreating into the surrounding woods. The older brother nodded and the red-haired noble groaned and eventually turned and left him. He smirked triumphantly, he had them now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I would introduce Connor in this chapter, but I lied. Sorry. There wasn't enough room to introduce him in this chapter, so we will definitely see him in the next chapter. Thank you to all you lovely people who have left kudos and comments, it's very encouraging. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on Tumblr at https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/  
> Without further or do I will get writing the next chapter. See you later.


	6. United we Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up guys this is a loaded chapter. Seriously, Loaded.
> 
> Warnings: Coarse language and Mentioned death and violence.

Ethna wiped the remnants of tears from her eyes.  She had almost killed someone. She had _wanted_ someone to die. Gall or not, he was still a human. How could she think like that? She had thought of plunging the knife into his neck, she had pictured it, contemplated it and she had justified that it was right. The thing that shocked her most was that until her viewpoint changed when she was told to do the dirty work, it had seemed perfectly just in her eyes. Perhaps, that was Brennan’s reasoning, to make sure she didn’t regret her decision later. Whatever his reasoning, she was glad for it.

She washed her face, listening to the gentle lapping of the river’s edge. Sighing, she stood making her way back to camp. As she stood, something shot out from under a bush. Hands latched around her ankles, throwing her off balance. She toppled to the ground and Cold hands clasped around her mouth, silencing her cry.  No! I knew I was right. I knew I should’ve killed him. How did he escape? Was all she could think. She thrashed and managed to throw off her attacker. She whipped around to see, surprisingly, not the Gall.

“Oh Ethy, you should’ve seen your face,” the boy cackled. She almost did not recognise the boy before her caked head to toe with mud. Mischievous, green eyes peeked out from a mop of dark hair that seemed as if it was braided with twigs and leaves.

“You nitwit! Don’t ever do that again!” She heaved, recovering from the scare.

“Do what again?” The boy asked innocently.

“Scare me like that,” she hastily pulled the boy into a firm hug, not caring about dirtying her own dress. “We had no idea where the hell you were if you were alive or dead. I was so worried. I don’t what I would do If I lost you too…”

“Unfortunately, you won’t get rid of me that easily,” he quipped.

“Where’ve you been? And where’d all that mud come from? You’re filthy,” she fussed.

“I was tracking a family of foxes when I accidentally fell into a bog,” he shrugged. Ethna’s eyes widened in horror. seeing her reaction he rushed to correct his mistake.

“But I’m okay,” he reassured hastily, “I was able to crawl out after a few tries, surprisingly, this mud has been really helpful.”

“Come here, let’s get that muck off you,” she gestured to the river, “Tell me everything.” Huffing he shuffled onto his stomach and crawled towards the river where she sat. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket that hung from her belt and soaked it. She wiped the dried mud off to reveal his round pale face and his freckled nose.

“After I got out, I started to make my way back home but I heard screams and fightin’. I waited 'till the noise had died down and headed back to see what happened. There were Gall everywhere. I watched ‘em from the tree line,” he stated proudly.

“They could’ve seen you, what were you thinkin’?” She scolded.

“I doubt anyone saw me, I’d been followin’ you for about half hour and you didn’t notice,” he smirked, Ethna scowled. Connor had a nasty habit of eavesdropping and spying on people. And as the village cripple, he got away with it. He feigned innocence and ignorance far too often for Ethna’s liking. “The mud and leaves make me look like part of the forest, I can spy on anyone, it’s incredible, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it already.”

“What of the village, did all the women and children escape?” She asked solemnly.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see any." he shook his head, "All I saw was that they went into our houses and ransacked them. We got the last laugh though, the bastards didn’t get much from us. Though, they got Chief O'Ruadhain’s small fortune and the chief himself. Late at night they tied his hands and forced him into their bonfire. I can’t say I liked him much but, he didn’t deserve that.” Ethna shivered as she scrubbed the mud from his arms.

“Let's hope that the fire was hot and he died quickly, he’s in a better place now,” she sighed.

Connor scoffed, “I doubt it.”

“Connor!” Ethna exclaimed, “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Why not? The man was a pig. He did whatever and whoever he pleased, it’s miracle that Leamh did fall to ruins.”  

“Be sure to guard yer tongue back at camp, Coilean is with us,” she informed him. Connor grunted and rolled his eyes. “I know, but behave, please,” she implored. He grinned.

“Sister dearest, what are you implying?” He said slyly as he splashed her playfully.

She splashed him back, “You know exactly what I am talking about you little weasel.  Just remember the sooner we light the beacon and send Coilean on a ‘galant quest’ to his father’s allies, the sooner we can go back to Leamh.”

He stopped splashing her suddenly serious, “We can’t. The Gall haven’t left yet, and I don’t think they plan on leaving anytime soon. I saw a few pitch tents and they're burning most of the dead bodies.” Ethna stiffened. Burning the bodies? How barbaric were these people? They wish to disrespect all people, even in death, ensuring they can not be resurrected in the days of Christ. But why get rid of the bodies unless they wanted to stay? Ethna went into deep thought, they must be waiting for the young man we captured. Why else would they wait? they had nothing of value. Who exactly had they captured if they were unwilling to leave without him? The Gall must be someone of importance Ethna concluded. She was drawn out of her thoughts by a whimper from Connor.

The boy winced and his face contorted in pain.

“What is it? Is it your back?” Ethna questioned with concern. He winced again and nodded. “Can you crawl or do you want me to carry you?”

“I can make it,” he reassured and pushed himself up on his arms and hissed.

“No you can’t, here,” she reached forward, he shrank away from her fingers.

“I can make it!” He repeated. He obviously couldn’t. She really didn’t need his stubbornness right now.

“Connor,” Ethna pleaded. Relenting he allowed her to unbind his legs and string his arms around her neck. She hauled his thin legs under her arms and lifted him onto her back.

“Onward noble steed!” He joked weakly pointing ahead, trying to remain unconcerned.  Ethna however, was very concerned.  Now was not the time for one of his back’s ‘episodes’. She didn’t have his medicine or even her heat bag to help ease the pain. She needed to get back to the village and get her medical supplies, somehow.

* * *

 

Brennan insisted on having dinner late in the afternoon so that the firelight didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

“What’s for dinner?” Coilean asked Maeve.

“Squirrel,” she replied.  

“But we had that for lunch,” he whined.

“So?” Maeve asked confused.

“So, I want somethin’ else other than this filth,” he demanded. Maeve shrugged an apology.

“If you want somethin’ else then you have to get it yourself lazy arse,” Eoin shot from across the clearing. Coilean looked like he was going to throttle Eoin before his eyes spotted the young woman stumbling towards them.

“Ethy!” Brennan rushed forward. He scooped up the groaning boy from her back.

“Is his back having a turn?” He asked. She nodded.

“We have to go back,” she stated hurriedly searching for her sack.

“No one is going back,” Brennan blurted quickly. Slightly irked at his protest Ethna raised an eyebrow.

“Well I am,” she stated.

“No!” Connor protested. “The Gall, they are still there!” Brennan set the boy down on a blanket.

“We a can’t risk going back,” Brennan stated firmly, “If the Gall are still there, you could be spotted.”

Ethna ignored them and continued to look for her sack, throwing her cloak over her shoulders in the process.

“Connor needs at least the heat bag, but this isn’t just about him, Eoin’s wound could get infected, one of us may need medicine on the journey. Before we leave we should…”

“Ethna no,” Eoin interrupted, “It’s too dangerous not just for you, for anyone…”

“So is an undressed wound!” She retorted. Brennan’s hands clamped down on her shoulders.

“I forbid you to go, If you try, so help me I will tie you to the tree with _him_ ,” he threatened, jerking his head in the prisoner's direction. Ethna huffed in defiance. Fabian, who had been silent, shared a look with Brennan before he stood.

“Ethna, can I have a word with you?”

“Yes?”

“In private,” he gestured to the woods. Furrowing her brow, she nodded before following.

* * *

 

When they were a short distance from camp he stopped. He looked... nervous? That confused her even more.

“What is it?” She asked. He took a deep breath and seemed to muster up some courage.

 

“I know it must be hard for you to see him suffer, but his pain will pass, your life, however, can not,” he implored, “Ethna, ever since I first met you two years ago I have admired your bravery and intelligence. Your ambition to learn, to read, to write, to heal. And your kindness, it’s unrivalled. You are a rare beauty Ethna and I don’t want you taking unnecessary risks anymore because…” He stammered, “Well… You… I… We have been courting for a year now and… I want you to know... to know how much I care about you if anything goes wrong...”

“Fabian,” Ethna’s eyes widened. Her legs felt weak as Fabian kneeled before her.

“I know now is crazy and everything is uncertain... except one thing, I love you, with all my heart.” He rummaged for something inside his tunic. “Ethna Nic Cuirtin, when this is all over, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

She stood in shock. She knew that this would happen one day, but today? Now? Of all times?

“Fabian, I… I,” she stammered.  He really had to work on his timing. She stared at the pendant on a leather cord he presented to her. It was a small wooden cylinder with pointed ends. It was beautifully carved with interwoven lines depicting fish surrounding a shamrock in the front and centre. It was not expensive or valuable by anyone else’s standards. But to her the simple accessory was priceless. She had seen glimpses of Fabian carving something small over many months, in his spare time, when he thought no one was looking. She suddenly remembered that the young man in front of her required an answer. “Yes,” she cried, “Yes! Nothing would make me happier!” She helped him up.

“Good, you had me worried there for a second,” he laughed. He then nodded at her and gestured for her to turn around. She lifted her braid up to allow him to fasten the necklace. He let his hands lingered on her shoulders while she admired the pendant.

“It’s beautiful,” she praised, “Thank you.” She pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“We can get married in the next church we come across, so until then, promise me to keep out of trouble future wife,” he smiled taking her hand in his as he led her back to camp.

She hesitated, “I promise.” For a moment everything was perfect. All Ethna could think about was her name changing from Nic Cuirtin to Mhic Cìepman. Though she knew their brief happiness was going to be cut short as soon as they returned to camp, she savoured the moment and hid it deep within her heart.

* * *

 

How many more members did this family have? They seem to keep popping up like rabbits from a warren. Perhaps all Gaels were like rabbits, skittish with big families. He stared at the new addition to the ragtag group in wonder. He had never seen another cripple like him. He lay motionless next to the fire, his face scrunched up and his lips sealed. He could relate, he himself had spent many days and nights of his childhood lying deathly still, afraid to move and feel the stabbing pains. The dark-haired woman sat next to him stroking his forehead with a mournful look on her face. There was nothing she could do.

 _“Dinner’s ready!”_ The blonde woman called out something. The woman started to hand around sticks with some kind of meat.  The dark-haired man said some speech as the band bowed their heads. A water skin was passed around as the group ate merrily. His stomach growled. He couldn’t remember when he last ate, if they forgot to feed him he would certainly let them know about it. His mood only fouled when he saw Fabian take a seat next to the dark-haired woman. He beamed and handed her her meal. Something had changed between the two of them after they had come back from that walk. Fabian seemed bolder in displaying his affections for her. Ivar snarled as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He envied him. Why does he get to touch her? He seethed. Patience, he told himself,  if you bide your time and do this right, she will be yours.

Looking back at them Ivar locked eyes with her. She shot up from her seat exclaiming something. She picked up a stick with meat and paced towards him and gingerly passed the stick into his hands.  

He smiled fakely at her, “Good to know that youcare about me.”  

She arched an eyebrow, **“You’re welcome?”** She replied with uncertainty. He snorted and took a bite out of the unknown meat. It was tough and slightly stringy, but not bad.  He inhaled it after the first few bites.  

 _“Ethna here, you haven’t had any water yet,”_ The blonde woman cautiously crept forward handing the water skin to her. She judged it’s weight, then glanced at him, then back at the skin. Sighing she passed the water to him.  As soon as the first drop passed down his throat, he realised just how thirsty he was. He gulped it down, all of it. She took the empty skin from him in silence.

 _“Selfish bastard.”_ The wounded young man commented something from his seat. Given the tone, it was probably an insult. He only grinned wolfishly back at the man.

* * *

 

When he heard the soft sounds of sleep from the Gaels he set to work weakening the ropes around his wrists. These people were stupid not to post a guard to keep watch. He filed the arrowhead across the bindings slowly fraying them enough to stay there but be snapped at his will.  He was almost finished when a shuffling interrupted him.  There was movement across from him as the dark-haired woman slowly raised her head. She was lying under a blanket next to the child and the other cripple. As she began to wriggle out between them, said boy started to stir. The young woman was there in an instant, whispering soft words to him, willing him back to sleep away from the pain. Silently, she picked up her cloak and sack and tiptoed past slumbering Fabian. Then, past her sleeping brother with his wife snuggled against his chest, past the snoring redhead and her mumbling wounded brother. What was she doing?

She then walked passed him. He cleared his throat. She jumped, startled by the fact that he was still awake. He knew that look. It was one of guilt, ‘Please don’t wake the others’ she seemed to say as she brought a finger to her lips. He only shrugged.

She breathed a sigh of relief, **“Thank you,”** she whispered. She then looked at him again with softened eyes and back at her kinsmen. She slowly paced forward and took her cloak off her shoulders.

 **“Cold?”** She asked quietly. He wasn’t really, but he wasn’t going to say no, so he nodded. She placed the cloak around him.  It smelt how he imagined she would; like the forest wind with a tinge of herbs and smoke.  It was coarsely woven yet warm and pleasant.

 **“Where are you going?”** He inquired. She tilted her head, considering whether to answer or not.

“ **Leamh. I will back on morning,”** she whispered as she turned and began her journey. He gave a small snort of amusement at her poor Saxon. He had no idea what a Leamh was, but he hoped wherever she was going she didn’t run into any of his men. He knew exactly what would happen if they got their hands on her. He didn’t like to think of it. He had staked claim to her, she was his. He decided then and there if anyone else touched her; he would kill them.

Without really thinking he whispered, “Careful,” after her. She turned to him once more, unsure of what he said. She just nodded and continued to slink off into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was loaded. I just wanted to speed the story up a bit, sorry if I gave you guys whiplash. To be honest I am not quite happy with this chapter but I promise to make it up to you guys. Anyway just a few things to note;
> 
> 1\. Connor has severe Spina Bifida (In other words a big hole in his spine) so his nerves in his legs are severed from his spinal cord
> 
> 2\. For those confused thinking that Ethna and Fabian were already engaged, they were betrothed and courting, so kind of in a flexible arranged marriage where they 'date' (court) first and then propose if they want to go ahead or break it off if they don't think it will work out. Also before the man proposes he must get permission from the man of the house and I had a scene in here where Fabian asks Brennan because her father is dead but I just couldn't get it out.
> 
> 3\. This coming week I am in block exams (finals? IDK I give up trying to not use Australian lingo) So It might be a while before I post again. Sorry.
> 
> 4\. Strap yourself in for the next chapter when it does come out, because here where things take off. Sorry to inform you guys but Fabian and Ethna can't be happy, because a certain someone is going to throw a spanner (or probably an axe in this case) in the works. Obviously this story is about a slave and there is no slave yet so...
> 
> 5\. Let me know who your favourite character in this story is, I am curious.
> 
> 6.Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, it's very encouraging. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co
> 
> Without further or do I will get writing the next chapter after I study(who am I kidding). Tytoaster out.


	7. Divided we Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suprise! I thought I would give you guys one more chapter before I disappear into the Abyss of Exams. So Enjoy!
> 
> Warnings: Coarse language, Mentioned death, Killing, kidnapping, violence

* * *

“Everyone up!” The boy screamed in panic. Brennan squinted in the morning sun.

“What is it?” He asked Connor through a yawn.

“Ethy’s gone!” Everyone shot up from their resting places. Stumbling to his feet Brennan cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Ethy!” He called. He prayed to God that she had just gone for a walk or gone to relieve herself or bathe or something, anything other than what he knew to be the truth. She had gone back to Leamh.

“Where is she?!” Brennan lifted his head up to see Fabian rage at the Dane. Frowning Brennan did a double take. The Dane had Ethna's cloak.

 **“Where is she?!”**  Fabian rephrased in Saxon.

The Dane shrugged smugly, **“How should I know?”** Frustration crept up on Fabian’s face turning it as red as his hair.

**“When did she leave?”**

**“While you all were slumbering like drunks, she left around midnight.”** Fabian paled.

“What did he say?” Brennan asked.

“Sh sh... she’s been gone since midnight,” he stuttered.

“Well, my condolences, she will be missed.” Coilean began packing his things, “We should get a move on if we want to get to this beacon.” Everyone stilled in shock. Coilean sighed, “Look don’t beat yerselves up about it, it’s her own fault…” He was interrupted by a rock striking him square in the face.

“Have you no decency!?” Connor screamed mournfully as he pegged another rock at the young man. “This is all my fault,” he sobbed, “She only went back because I wasn’t strong enough…”

“This isn’t yer fault Connor,” Brennan tried to reassure his young brother.

“You’re right,” Eoin sneered as he stalked towards Coilean. “If it’s anyone’s fault it’s this swine’s. He was supposed to keep the second watch, but instead, he fell back asleep snorting like the pig he is!”

“You filthy…” Coilean didn’t finish as he lunged at Eoin. He ducked and landed a jab to Coilean’s stomach. He grunted in pain and shoved Eoin back.

“Stop this!” Maeve cried. Ignoring her Coilean swung at Eoin's head, he recoiled dodging the hit. Brennan stepped between the two catching both their fists and pushed them apart roughly.

“Both of you sit down, cool off and shut up!” He commanded but his voice was joined by another.

“Ethy!” Peigi called excitedly from behind them. They all turned abruptly as to see the dairk hair girl trudge through the tangled trees towards them. Fabian ran past shouting with joy.

“Thank the Lord!” He exclaimed. Ethna froze. She slowly looked up at them with red-rimmed eyes. Brennan’s throat tightened. She knew. She had figured it out. Ignoring Fabian she marched towards them.

“You bastards!” She screamed dumping her sack at Connor’s feet. “You Bastards!” She repeated flying at him. Her hands slapped him, stinging his arms as he shielded his face. “How could you?” She sobbed relenting her attack as her body shook. Fabian reached out to comfort her, but she pushed him away, “Don’t touch me!”

“Ethna, please,” he pleaded, “Try to understand, we had no choice,” Brennan began.

She shook her head not hearing it, “No, there is always a choice.”

“Ethna what are you talkin’ about?” Maeve asked.  

“Of course you didn’t tell her,” Ethna snarled through her tears.

“She doesn’t need to know…”

“What? she doesn’t need to know what all of you did. She doesn’t deserve to know that her husband’s a murderer!” Ethna spat.

“Brenny, what’s she talkin’ about?” Maeve looked up at him with her round brown eyes. Brennan looked down at the ground ashamed. This was the exact reason he didn’t want his sister to go back, the Gall  were just a cover for his sins. Eoin, Fabian and himself had made a pact to never speak of it, for the sake of their siblings and wives.

“I’m talkin’ about how our own men slaughtered our people!” Ethna continued with disgust. Connor and Maeve gasped.

“It wasn’t like that,” Eoin began desperately trying to defend himself along with the other young men.

“You tell me what it was like then,  Eoin, because I know what I saw,” she shouted. “I saw the women, the children and the elderly, throats all cut with precision lying in pools of their own blood in the house of our God. You slaughtered your own kin, you defiled the church! And one of you killed our father!”

“What else were we supposed to do? Let them be taken as slaves! Be hacked at mercilessly, raped and beaten? They asked for a merciful death, it’s not like we enjoyed giving it to them!” Eoin screamed back tears welling in his own eyes.

“They could have run away like us!” She sobbed.

Ethna slumped down to the ground and buried her face in her hands. It was all too much. Brennan knew the band and his family was falling to pieces around him. He knew that his sister didn’t hate him, neither did his wife, they just needed time to come to grips with what he had done, he himself needed time.

“It's obvious that in this state we can’t work together,” he sighed.

“What do you propose?” Fabian asked solemnly.

“Eoin, Fabian and I make the journey to the beacon,” he paused. There were no objections this time. “The rest of you head to Waterford and we will meet there, given time, hopefully, we can all find it in our hearts to forgive each other.” The other young men nodded in agreement.

* * *

 Within moments the three young men had packed and now stood to say their goodbyes. He watched as Eoin said his farewells to his siblings. He also watched as Fabian tried to give Ethna a peck on the cheek, she turned her head away and went back to treating Connor’s back. Fabian sighed, with a heartbroken look on his face he placed a hand on her shoulder and let it linger before he strode off with Eoin.

Brennan gave Peigi a long tight hug, “See you soon Peg, be brave, listen to Connor and Ethy okay?” The girl nodded, “Good girl.” He bent down and ruffled Connor’s hair, “Look after them and try not to kill Coilean, behave please.”

Connor scoffed, “I’ll try.”

“I’m sorry Ethna.” She looked up at him with grief.

“I am too brother.” She went back to massaging Connor’s back with a salve.

Last but not least he came to his beautiful wife.  Brennan wiped a tear from his wife's face.

“Take care, my love,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You too,” She responded, “I pray that you come back to us safe and sound.”

“Us?” He questioned.  

She rested a hand on her belly and nodded, “Us.” His breath hitched and his eyes widened.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, so you better make it to Waterford,” she smiled sadly pressing a kiss to his lips, “May God bless you and keep you always.” He reluctantly let go of her hand and trudged to catch up with the others filled with a sliver of joy. He was going to be a father.

* * *

 The Gael had not been easy to track. Who ever they were, they knew their way around the forest, that was for sure. Ubbe lead a small team of raiders deeper into the forest in the early hours of the morning in the hopes of finding their late night visitor. He had been on watch that night and seen the shadowy figure sprint in between the buildings. He watched the phantom from a distance as they slipped into the small lean-to hut connected to the long wooden building. Moments later they slipped out again and began their journey back. As they crept passed the main door of the long wooden building two of his men rounded the corner laughing drunkenly. The silhouette ducked into the building. He half expected them to scream at the sight that lay inside. But moments later the midnight spectre fled, tearing off into the night. He decided that if he was to find the reason for his brother’s disappearance a good place was to start with this Gael that was hiding in the forest.  

After Hvitserk left with two-thirds of their men early that morning, Ubbe took the best trackers with him. But even they were having trouble following the trail.

“Where to from here?” He asked Helfrim. The young shieldmaiden shook her head.

“I have no idea,” she sighed in frustration. She then looked past his head and smiled, “But this I can tell you,” she reached above his head and plucked something from a branch. She held the long, dark, single hair in front of him, “Judging by the fact that the men here cut their hair I’d say we're looking for a woman.”

“You have very fine eyesight,“ he praised, “Would you think it right to assume that if it is a woman from the village she wouldn't be hiding alone?”

“I do my prince.” Ubbe grinned, If his brother had been captured by a bunch of peasants, he was never going to let him live it down.

* * *

 

Now was the time. Not only were they divided. But the blonde woman and the children had left. He wasn’t quite sure how or why everyone but the noble and the Gaelic woman had left, but he didn’t really care. It was obviously the work of the gods, they approved. His blood raced with excitement as his hand clutched the arrowhead tightly.

“ **Woman**!” He called. She lifted her head, weary from lack of sleep. She furrowed her brows and walked over to him.

 _“I have a name.”_ She mumbled something. He tried his best not to look smug.

 **“I have to go,”** he stated. She frowned then laughed.

 **“You not go anywhere.”** She had misunderstood him, sighing he tried again.

 **“I have to relieve myself,”** he explained.

 **“Re… rel... rel-eve? I do not understand,”** she tilted her head. He rolled his eyes, this was infuriating.

 **“I need to piss!”** he yelled, she flinched at his raised voice but still frowned in confusion. He then resorted to miming, he gestured to his crotch. Her face lit up bright red as her mouth formed an ‘oh’ in realisation. He smirked.

 _“Coilean!”_ The woman nervously called for the young man. Reluctantly the young man was persuaded to take him to answer the call of nature. The young woman untied the knot that bound him to the tree trunk and the red-headed noble un-enthusiastically hoisted him up and half-carried half-dragged him into the forest. When they were far enough from the camp Ivar sprang into action.

He snapped the bonds around his wrist and in one fluent motion drove the arrowhead into the man’s throat. They both toppled to the ground. The man clutched at his throat, trying in vain to hold the spurting blood back. He spluttered and gurgled until he stilled, red liquid soaking into the ground. It was over in less than a minute. He looked down at his handy work as dull brown eyes stared back in an expression of shock and fear. He took the time to distinguish the colours between the blood and the man’s hair. The crimson liquid was not the same as the bright ochre curls that adorned the man’s head, he concluded slightly disappointed.  Perhaps Fabian’s darker strands will still match. He grinned at the thought.

“Thank you,” Ivar quipped as he stole the man’s sword and the rope that had bound him to the tree. The blade was more ornate than an actual weapon. It was terribly weighted, but it would do. He could hardly contain his excitement as he crawled quietly as possible back to the camp. He spied the woman sitting next to the fire fiddling with her pendant lost in thought.  He picked up a large stone and threw it in the opposite direction. As planned she turned her attention to that spot. He crawled forwards a few move paces and threw another rock. She stood up as he crawled directly behind her. She tilted her head and assumed a stance of cautiousness. _“Coilean?”_ She called out what he assumed to be the dead man’s name.

He swiftly rolled into her knocking her off balance. She grunted as she hit the ground. He clambered on top of her pressing the sword blade to her neck. 

 **“Scream and I will kill you,”** he gave an empty threat. Her chest rose sharply pressing against his as she nodded. He bit back a groan of pleasure at the feeling of her under him again. He had to constrain himself to not strip her and have her right then and there. Reminding himeself of his mission he took the rope he pulled back from her slightly. **“Give me your hands.”** She heaved deep heavy breaths and began to tremble. **“Now!”** He commanded.  She clenched her fists and began to offer them to him, just not in the way he expected. 

His face stung at the first blow but by the second he had recovered from the shock. He wrestled her hands together as she struggled persistently, cursing in her foreign words. Eventually, he managed to rope them together. She flailed and managed to scramble up to run but he held the other end of the long rope firmly. She pulled, tugged and strained, hoping to win their game of tug of war.

She was pulling so hard but going nowhere. It was amusing.

 **“Let go!”** She demanded.

He smirked, “As you wish.” He let go of the rope. The sudden slack caused her to promptly face plant. He chuckled taking the opportunity to tie the end around a tree trunk. With her secured, he got to work. He picked up as many green leafed branches as he could find and began to pile them onto the fire. Thick white smoke began to rise up into the air. He paused when he heard a child giggling and leaves rustling indicating the return of the other Gaels. He had to secure them too. He found his weapons that they had confiscated and clasped his axe tightly.

 _“RUN!”_ His head turned in surprise as the woman shouted. He cursed. _“Get to the Beacon! Forget Waterford! GO! Find Brennan! Get out of here! leave me! Save yerselves!”_ He turned and growled at the screaming woman. She locked eyes with him, determination shone through the terror plastered across her features. _“I’m as good as dead!”_ Her screams turned to loud hysterical sobs as he advanced towards her axe drawn. _“I love you all… Connor, you use yer wonderful brain God has gifted you with… Peigi never lose yer sense of wonder… Maeve take courage! God be with y…”_ He silenced her with the butt of his axe. She fell limp against the tree roots.

“I like you better when you’re quiet,” he mused. He heard the rustling and footsteps hastily retreating, her kin had heeded the woman's warning.  It didn't matter he consoled himself, he had what he wanted.

* * *

 

He did not have to wait long for someone to find them. He had begun sifting through the Gael’s objects when he heard clambering in the forest. He readied his hand on his axe. A familiar face emerged from the forest. He grinned up at the towering blonde and his companions.

“Took you long enough,” he commented.

“Looks like you’ve been on quite the adventure little brother,” Ubbe observed the campsite.

“More like misadventure,” Ivar rolled his eyes.

“I take it you didn’t enjoy your stay?”

“I’ve had worse,” he shrugged thinking back to Ecbert’s hospitality. Ubbe’s eyes then landed on the unconscious young woman.

“I see you have got yourself a souvenir,” Ubbe gestured.

Ivar smirked, “I guess that’s what you could call her.” He gathered up the woman’s cloak and stuffed it into the sack with medical supplies he planned to take with him.  He was curious about the salve he saw her use on her younger brother and she was going to need the cloak for the cold weather of Kattegat.  Now there was just the matter of getting her back to camp. He didn’t want Ubbe to carry her, but there was no way he would let any of the other men carry her back either. He spied a solution; the brunette shield maiden examining the ground. Helfrim, he believed her name was. “Helfrim?” The woman lifted her head instantly.

“Yes my prince?” She asked intently.

“Would you carry her back for me?”

“Of course,” Helfrim nodded wistfully. He watched, intrigued by her reaction as she scrutinised the Gaelic woman before hoisting her across her shoulders.

“What’s her name?” His brother interrupted his observation. He frowned. What was her name? How could he not know? He had heard the phrase ‘Effina’ and ‘Effey’  used multiple time around her. Perhaps her name was Eff.

“I don’t know,” he finally replied as they began their way back to the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would give you guys one more chapter before I disappear into the Abyss of Exams. Also, I had this chapter half written when I posted Chapter 5 so I thought better to finish it and not have a half-written chapter to tempt me into procrastination.
> 
> So... this is where the real fun begins (Evil Laughter)
> 
> Also, finally up to date with the show. Episode twenty aired last Wednesday so now I am in the same boat.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, it's very encouraging. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co
> 
> Without further or do I will get writing the next chapter after I study (for real this time). Tytoaster out.


	8. Trail Blazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings; major sexual references, slapping, hair pulling, mentions of death, slavery, violence, restraints, burning and coarse language.
> 
> Meanings:  
> Daor = Irish for slave.

* * *

She lay motionless, yet she swayed back and forth. A dull ache panged in the side of her head. She cracked open her eyes only to clench them shut again. The late afternoon sun was blinding. Ethna’s head blurred and her ears buzzed. The incessant ringing quieted down and was replaced with indefinable murmurs, harsh commands and barks of laughter. There was also the cry of seagulls and a sound she knew too well; oars. She wanted to bolt upright, open her eyes and assess the situation, but her second thought was to remain still and fain sleep. She focused on the voices and tried to decipher words, she was unsuccessful, it was a foreign language. She then became aware of a raw itching around her wrists. Subtly she tried to separate them but found she couldn’t. Her mind spun. Rope, ships and foreigners. She tried to gain control of her breathing as fragments of this morning’s events flashed before her. God help me, she prayed.

 _“I know you’re awake, you're breathing like a startled rabbit.”_ The words were foreign but the voice was eerily familiar. The Dane. That bastard. Just when she was beginning to become fond of him too. It occurred to her that she didn’t know his name. It didn't matter, she told herself, she would find a way to escape and then she would forget him. She remained ‘asleep’ ignoring him. He was probably talking to someone else anyway. She heard a few chuckles around her, he must have said something funny. _“Come on, get up, you can’t ‘sleep’ forever.”_ he cooed. He was definitely talking to her. He began to try and shake her awake. She clenched her eyes shut and decided not to face her problems. _“Get up.”_ The words sounded harsh as if they been hissed through gritted teeth. She remained unmoving.  She heard movement around her. What are they doing? A cold, wet, shock answered that question. Water from the river Suir splashed her face as the dark-haired Dane dumped a cup on her face. She shot up and gasped. The pagans all heaved with laughter.

 **“I told you to get up,”** he grasped her arm and ripped her towards him. She landed on the bench beside him with a grunt. She scowled and snatched her arms back.

 **“I do not haved understand you,”** she spat back angrily. He only chuckled. There was a laugh from a man who waltzed up to them. He was tall with one thick, long, blonde braid, a light beard and piercing blue eyes, much like the dark-haired Dane’s.

 _“Her Saxon is understandable, but amusingly incorrect.”_ The older man remarked patting the Dane’s shoulder. She heard him say Saxon, they were laughing at her speech. She glared at him. He seemed taken aback. _“If looks could kill, your souvenir here could save us many battles.”_ He turned to his dark-haired friend, _“Did you find out her name?”_    

 _“No, not yet,”_  The younger Dane turned to her, _“What's your name?”_ He looked into her eyes and repeated that phrase before offering a translation.

 **“What is your name?”** He asked staring at her with those cold blue eyes **.** She stiffened. She didn't want to share that information with him. Names were sacred. They carried identity, meaning and power. They were not something that should be given away lightly, especially to people you don’t trust.

 **“My name is not yours,”** she stated. He seemed confused **.** His friend chuckled.

“ _Of course your name isn't mine, it's yours…”_ He paused as her meaning dawned on him. His face contorted with rage. Her scalp burned as he yanked her braid back. _“What is your name?”_ He demanded. She yelped before locking eyes with him.

 _“What is your name?”_ She copied the phrase in spite. He growled and brought his hand up as if to strike her. But he stopped. He let go of her hair and became focused on something else in the distance.

The smoke wafted around her. She lifted her head and saw the thick plume rising up ahead. As they rounded the river bend more carnage came into view. There were more of the Dane’s boats docked on the bank ahead. She recognised the smouldering buildings. The village of Ceathrú. It was the fourth village along the Suir. That meant the pagans were only three more villages away from Waterford. Ethna’s mouth gaped open in horror. The village of Ceathrú was home to the O’Togha clan. They were the best warriors in the area. What hope did they have if the best lay slain? Orders barked around her as the ship was brought about to dock. She sat frozen. The weight of her situation settled on her like a boulder. The Gaels were at war, and she was a prisoner from the losing side. She felt crushed, it became hard to breathe. She watched her control slip through her fingers like sand. The freedom she never knew she had, had been stolen from her. She herself had been stolen from her home, her family by strangers. Vile strangers. Godless strangers that killed and raped without mercy. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She was a daor.

* * *

 

“You brute!” Ethna snarled as she was forcefully tugged along by the brunette woman with tattoos snaking up her arms. Ethna got the impression that this woman either hated her or being told what to do by the dark-haired Dane. As soon as they had got off the boat another man had come to greet them. He had ridiculously long, dirty-blonde hair. He was covered in blood and was grinning like a madman. The three Danes conversed amongst themselves. She was too busy watching their men herd shackled slaves into a pen to pay attention to them. A flash of movement in her peripheral vision caused her to snap out of it. The smiling man reached to grab her, she shrunk back behind the dark-haired Dane and his crutches. The older one laughed while the dark-haired Dane spoke harshly to his grinning companion. That’s when he called the brunette and ordered her to take Ethna away.

The word ‘master’ floated into her mind. She shivered. She didn’t want to think of that. She was not some prized cow and she promised herself to make certain she never became like one. Ethna wondered where this woman was dragging her. They had past where they were keeping the other slaves. They past charred buildings and saw the warrior men and women pitching tents and cooking meals as the sun started to go down. A few heads turned as she passed them. She searched in the direction they were heading. About fifty paces ahead was the end of their camp, and just on the edge of it was a larger tent. Ethna’s mind raced as she came to a frightening conclusion. She was being taken to the Dane’s tent.

“No!” She voiced out loud and tugged back on the rope. The woman yanked her forward. Her wrists stung and chaffed. She didn’t care. This was not happening. She dug her heels into the dirt.

 _“Come on you stupid bitch!”_ The woman shot an insult at her.

“No! Get lost you bloody heathen bastard!” She screamed back. The woman gave up trying to pull her by the rope and lunged towards her. She grabbed her middle and roughly hoisted her up. Ethna kicked her legs and screamed profanities at the surprisingly strong woman. With difficulty she was hauled into the tent and roughly dumped on the bed. Ethna tried to make a run for it but the woman sat on top of her stomach to pin her to the furs. She began to tie the rope to the bedpost. Ethna writhed and wriggled trying to make it as difficult as possible. A crack sounded as the woman slapped Ethna's face.

 _“Stop struggling you little slut!”_ The woman commanded her. A coppery taste filled her mouth as she licked her now split lip. The woman gave one more final tug to make sure the knot was tight.

She got up and walked across the tent. Taking some flint she sparked an oil lamp to life, creating a warm glow. The tent didn’t contain much. Just a bed, a nightstand, some food supplies, a keg and two chests. Ethna watched as the woman placed the lamp down on one of the chests. She made to leave but turned back to her as she parted the flaps.   

 _“Enjoy your evening, bitch.”_ The woman spat something shooting her a glance full of malice before stalking out of the tent.

Ethna flipped onto her stomach and tested the rope to see how much she could move around. She found she could just move enough to be able to stand right next to the bed. Her fingers attacked the knot. She didn’t know what kind of knot it was, but that woman certainly knew what she was doing. She let out a frustrated howl and kicked the bedpost. Wincing in pain, she drew in a deep breath. Kicking the furniture was not going to do anything of consequence. 

Experimenting, she turned around and stretched her foot as far as it could go. She recoiled immediately in fear of touching the lamp’s flame. An idea started to form in her mind as she sat on the bed and proceeded to take her shoe off. After she took her right shoe off she stood up, bunched up her dress and reached her leg out for the lamp again. Straining, she managed to hook her toes through the lamp’s handle. She carefully retracted her foot and pivoted awkwardly till she set it down on the nightstand next to her. She then looked between the flame and the rope around her wrist. This was going to hurt. She weighed up her options: Small time pain or a life of suffering? There was not a choice. She clutched a pillow and stuffed the corner into her mouth. She bit down and let her wrists drift closer to the flames.

* * *

 

“So tell me brother, how was your little holiday?” Hvitserk asked as he ripped into a chicken leg.

“Tedious,” Ivar spat bitterly. The brothers sat at a table in what they assumed was the chief's house.

“It can’t have been that bad,” Ubbe pondered, “You did find yourself a woman after all.”

“She wasn’t the problem, her family was,” Ivar groaned.

“Family? Does she have a sister?” Hvitserk asked with a mouth full of food.

“Yes she does in fact,” he began. Hvitserk's eyes lit up as he took a gulp of mead, “But she can’t be more than five years old,” he finished with a smirk.  Hvitserk almost choked on his mead before he regained his composure.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll just have to get into your good graces Ivar,” Hvitserk grinned suggestively. Ivar grimaced. 

“So, she had brothers then?” Ubbe inquired steering the conversation away from conflict 

“Yes, three of them. Two of them were the men you let escape. The third was a young cripple,” Ivar stated.

He began to drum his fingers on the table. He was growing impatient. He wanted his brother to stop quizzing him and let him go. Ubbe smiled knowingly as he watched his tapping fingers.

“Relax brother, she is not going anywhere,” Ubbe assured, “What happened to her brothers?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted “The older two left with a man called Fabian after the woman had an argument with them.” Ubbe sat back thoughtfully. Ivar continued to think of the woman. His thrall. He still didn’t know her name. That was the first thing he was going to do. He was going to find out her name, and take great pleasure in punishing her for humiliating him in front of his brother. It was a strange conflicting feeling he felt. One part of him wanted to tear her to shreds while he ravished her, making her scream and cry. While the other wanted to hold her in his arms and bury his face in her hair and feel her warmth against his skin. He imagined her without that dirty grey dress. Her pale soft flesh brushing against his as he sucked and nipped at her beautiful neck. She would gasp and moan his name in her foreign accent, Ivar… Ivar… Ivar…

“Ivar!” He snapped back to hear Hvitserk calling him, “There you are. It was like you were in another realm!”

“What is it now?” He snapped.

“We were asking if you thought it a good idea to stay here for a day or two before we head to the capital?” Hvitserk informed him.

“How difficult was it to take the villages today?” He asked.

“Well the first two were easy, this one however, was more difficult, the men here were well equipped and better fighters. We lost ten of our own today,” Hvitserk reported. He hummed thoughtfully.

“One day, then we move on. We should assume the capital is better protected, even though we have the element of surprise on our side, it would be wise to re-sharpen our swords and skills.”

“Agreed,” Ubbe nodded, “Skol!”

“Skol!” As they all took a gulp, shouts and yells started to pierce the air.

He and his brothers hastily made their way outside. Immediately the distinctive smell hit their noses. Smoke. They made their way to the edge of the camp where a large crowd had gathered. There he saw his tent ablaze along with two other nearby tents. He could smell mead. She must have used mead to spread the fire. Two men rushed past him with buckets of water. They dumped the water onto the flames only to scream and jump back as they flared up even more. It appeared she had also used the oil and pig fat in the cooking supplies to make sure the fire spread if someone tried to put it out with water. He slammed his fist into the ground and roared. This was not supposed to happen.

“Well, she certainly is creative,” Hvitserk commented marvelling at the destruction. Helfrim suddenly came bounding up to them out of breath and baring more bad news.

“The slaves! They’re all gone. It was a distraction! She freed them!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been listening to a podcast called The Myths and Legends podcast. It's awesome, if you guys love old tales and folklore you should check it out (they have some saga's and Norse mythology stories on there).
> 
> Anyway listening to it I noticed a common theme with all ancient Irish or Celtic tales, there is always a reluctance to reveal a name to a person unless they are trusted. This was because of the common belief of the existence of fae and/or demons. Not revealing your name to them was a way to protect yourself from curses, because to enact a curse one had to know the name of the person they were trying to curse. So it is theorised that it was common for people to not give their name or real name to strangers or people they disliked on first impression. So I thought I'd keep this little custom in mind when I wrote this chapter to make the moment they do find out each other's name more significant. As we will see in the next chapter Ireland in the 9th century is quite a jumble of mostly Christianity but there is still some of the old religion and superstitions present.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, it's very encouraging. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co
> 
> Without further or do I will get writing the next chapter. Tytoaster out.


	9. Valiant Effort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence, mentioned rape and death, religion? (There's a Christian monk who gives and inspiring speech/sermon, so If you are offended by Christianity there's your warning)

* * *

“Keep runnin’! Stay together, don’t let anyone stray and don’t stop!” Ethna commanded as the group fled into the dark forest. The terrified prisoners clutched each other and formed a chain. Ethna grasped the hand of a crying young girl and hauled her along, while a young man with a shaved head clutched her other sleeve.

“I need to rest!” A woman rasped. She began to fall behind. A strong young man, an O’Togha, hoisted the woman onto his shoulders.

“We rest when we’re dead!” He bellowed.

“Keep goin’ just a bit further!” Ethna gasped out an encouragement. Her legs burned as she pushed herself. Just a bit further, just a bit further, she repeated like a mantra. They neared the top of a small hill, she could see the faint red glow of fires in the distance below them.  

“We need to cover our tracks." The young man next to her implored. His voice was soft yet urgent. He was right. The Danes weren’t just going to let them go, slaves were valuable loot. They would try and recapture them. It would be difficult in the dark but as soon as the sun came up finding the tracks of fifteen fleeing Gaels was not going to be a difficult task.

“Stop! We’ll rest here,” she called. The group halted. Most rested their hands on their legs and heaved heavy breaths. The girl collapsed on the ground, a boy coughed sporadically as he hugged a tree for support and a man bent over and threw up.

“We need to keep movin’.” The O’Togha man said restlessly.

“We can’t, we’re too tired,” a woman panted.

“It’s too dark we could run right off a cliff,” a man called.

“Well I guess that’s it then, we wait till mornin’ and they’ll find us.” The O’Togha man threw his hands up in the air.

“Do not give up hope Cuán, God is with us,” the young man with a shaved head spoke up. The man laughed bitterly.

“You say that brother, but let me ask you this; where was yer God when the Danes attacked? Where was he when they slew my father? Where was this God of the Christians when they raped and killed my sister? If your God is real then he has abandoned us!” Cuán sneered.

“He was, and is still with us all,“ The young monk rested a hand on Cuán’s shoulder, “He sees our suffering, he has seen what the heathens have done and he will judge them for it. It is their fault that the innocent suffer for their evil, not God’s. Trust me, if they do not receive punishment for what they have done in this life, they’ll receive it in the next life ten fold. And yer sister and father now sit at his right hand in paradise.”

“You told me that God was all powerful, that he ruled over the other gods, men and nature. If this was so, then he would have stopped this!” Cuán spat with grief. He sunk to the ground. And buried his head in his hands. Ethna looked on with sympathy. They were all feeling abandoned and dejected.

“He is all powerful,” the young monk assured them, “I don’t know why this happened. I only serve God, I do not know his plans. Evil only happens because he is kind enough to let his creations have free will. Be it as it may, the heathens have exercised their free will selfishly.”

“If free will is the cause of evil, then why does God give it to us?” Someone asked.

“God loves us. If you love someone, you let them choose to love you back. You set them free,” the monk sighed. “I don’t have all the answers my friends, but perhaps the events today will spark something in the future. Perhaps we are all here at such a time as this because God knows we are the people who will do his work. 'Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this.'” He finished. Those last words were words she knew well. They were from her favourite story as a girl. Father Leanan use to tell the story of a brave young woman who was nothing, but became a queen and saved her people. The story of Esther. Hope sparked within her. Such a time as this, she thought.

“Thank you brother, for your words of comfort,” Ethna thanked the young man, “Now that our spirits are lifted we have to decide what to do, I suggest we head to your nearest beacon and make sure it’s lit. I’ll journey to Waterford in hopes of meeting my family, anyone who wants to come with me is most welcome.”

“I thank you for yer kindness and bravery for freeing us lass but I don't agree, I think we should leave this province altogether. the Danes will attack and take Waterford like it’s nothing, then they will take all of Munster. We should go head to Leinster, start anew in the kingdom of Ossory, I hear King Cerball mac Dúnlainge is a strong king and has a formidable army,” Cuán put forward. Everyone murmured in agreement.

“What about the people of Waterford, the monastery, the convent, the trading port and township?” The monk asked.

“What can we do? Fight the Danes? No, not now, not ever. We must leave and try and cover our tracks from here on,” Cuán informed them. Everyone got up and began to grab branches to drag behind them. Ethna hung her head as she reached a decision. 

“I won’t go with you then, I need to get to the beacon. I must know if my family is safe. Kindly, point me in the direction and I’ll be on my way,” Ethna tried to remain polite. How could they abandon the people who needed them most? She understood that they were frightened, but there was more than just their lives at stake. Couldn’t they understand that?

“No need,” the young monk spoke up, “I know the way, I’ll go with you to the beacon and then on to Waterford.” She looked up at the Monk in surprise.

“Thank you, Brother,” she smiled. She picked up a large branch, “I suppose this is where we part ways, May God bless you all and keep you always,” she nodded at the group as they turned to head west.

“And you likewise, may the land spirits favour and watch over you,” Cuán nodded back respectfully.

“When we tell our children about this, who shall we say is our liberator?” A woman asked her.

“The daughter of a hunchback with the help of God,” she answered before turning and following the Monk North.

* * *

 

They trekked for hours in silence. Slowly inching forward in the dark towards their goal using the moon as their guide.

“So,” the monk broke the silence, “What does one have to do to get the title of the hunchback’s daughter?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory,” she informed him.

“I suppose that’s true,” he shrugged, “Where are you from?”

“Leamh,” she answered.

“Never been there, but I’d planned to go after I had helped the O’Togha’s set up a farm and taught them to read and write,” he conversed, “That’s O'Ruadhain clan land isn’t it, what was it like?”

“It was small, dirty, smelt like fish, but we had a nice river view,” she reminisced.

He let out a small chuckle, “Sounds like a nice, quiet place, good for studying.” Sharp pain flooded her chest, her home was now a collection of empty buildings and rotting corpses.

“It’s gone now,” she sniffled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No it’s okay,” she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “How much further?” She swiftly changed the subject.

“It’s just on top of this hill,” he answered and they retreated back into awkward silence.

* * *

 

They reached to beacon when the sun began to creep up to the horizon. The beacon was unlit. She looked in the distance to the other hills. Like a small bump in the distance across the river Suir she could see Rowan’s hill.  It’s beacon also, unlit. Her heart sunk. Her family should have made it there by now. Her breathing rasped and her vision blurred with tears. She let out a pained sob and fell on her knees.

“Lass?” The monk asked concerned.

“They didn’t make it,” she whispered, “They didn’t make it.” Her shoulders shook as tears streamed out of her eyes. She hid her face in her hands. She sat in silence for what seemed like ages.  

“Lass!” She felt the monk frantically tap her shoulder, “Don’t despair lass, look!” She lifted her head. There on top of Rowan’s hill, a small ball of faint light grew.

“They did it!” She exclaimed. Her tears were running again, this time out of relief and joy. “They’re alive!” She threw her arms up to the sky, “Thank you!” She danced around praising God. She then watched as on the next hill a similar glow blazed to life, followed by another and another.

“Quick we have to light it!” He searched around for a striking stone while she piled the branches and tinder stored nearby onto the pyre. He found it laying next to the bowl and triumphantly struck the oil alight. They stood and watched the inferno and looked to the next hills to see other balls of light spark to life in the pre-dawn light. A horn echoed mournfully across from the hill of the next village only to be accompanied by the harmonies of other distant horns. She turned to the monk, a wide grin plastered on their faces as they chuckled. They had done it.

In the firelight, she finally saw the young monks features. The top of his head was bald, like a typical monk’s. Around the bare patch was a ring of blonde curly hair.  His brown eyes smiled at her. He was quite young for a travelling monk. He couldn’t be much older than her. Most monks that went on missions to the remote villages were old, quiet and dull. This monk, however, was quite enthusiastic by comparison. Ethna got the sense that he was on his travels more for adventure than servitude. The two sat down in front of the beacon on the hill’s bluff and rested as they watched the sun rise. 

“What’s yer name lass?” He asked finally.

She hesitated before offering it to him, “Ethna Nic Cuirtin.” She turned to him, “And what about you Brother, I have told you about my home, where are you from?”

“I come from Eile,” he smiled nostalgically, “I left to join the monastery at Waterford when I was eleven, much to my father’s disdain. My mother was proud that her boy wanted something more than a dismal life, but father was upset that I abandoned the gods’.”

“You were a pagan?” She asked. It was not rare in these parts but it was always strange to meet a follower of the old ways.

“I guess you could say that.” He agreed, “It was all I knew before I was old enough to search for anything else. Were you raised a Christian?”

“Yes, Father Leanan taught me about the Lord from a very young age,” she informed him.

He nodded thoughtfully, “You never chose?”

“No,” she paused, “I don’t know anything different, but I am happy, God is good.” She turned to the monk intrigued, ”Why did you choose God over the old ways?”

“I liked how he was human one time, that he actually cared about people. My father’s gods only wanted us to fear them and sacrifice things to them. This God only asked for loyalty,  I was curious to learn more, I also wanted to travel and help people. I felt there was more for me than just herding sheep.”

“Did you find it? That something more?” She asked.

“I don’t know, but I feel closer to it than I did six years ago,” he shrugged.

A sharp crack echoed around them. A twig.

“They found us,” he whispered harshly before grabbing her wrist. She yelped in pain at him touching her raw burns from last night. She instinctively yanked her hand back. Losing her balance she fell and took him down with her. They rolled down until she painfully hit a large rock he crashed into her stopping them both.  Bruising pain flared in her stomach as she let out another yelp of pain. The Monk grabbed her arm and pulled her up as she winced and gasped in protest.

“Come on!” He called tugging her along. They half stumbled, half tripped down the hill face. She heard the foreign shouts and yells now they were closing in. They made it into the tree line. She tripped again, legs aching and fatigue catching up with her. He helped her up looking into her eyes, he could see the dark rings and exhaustion in them.

“I can't, I’m sorry,” she heaved.  The shouts came closer. He shook his head.

“No.” He stated firmly, crouching down gesturing to his shoulders. “No, I’m not letting them get you.“

“What?” She asked confused.

“Quick, climb the tree, I’ll give you a boost, then I’ll lead them away. You stay hidden until you know they are gone.“  
“No, they’ll kill you!” She protested. “I’ve heard what they do to monks.”

“And I’ve heard and seen what they do to women.” Seeing that she wasn’t going to comply he picked her up and lifted her into the tree branches, “Now climb!” Reluctantly, she started her ascent. He scrubbed the tracks around the tree and turned to run, angry voices getting louder and closer.

“Wait!” She called. He turned to her one last time, “What is your name?”

“Daibhi.”

“I won’t forget you, Brother Daibhi.”

“Me either Ethna Nic Cuirtin, God be with you.” She then watched him disappear into the forest only to have several Danes lumber after him. She choked back a sob. He had sacrificed himself for her.

* * *

 

She had the pattern set in her mind. These Gaels were clever. They could cover their tracks well, but if they were in a hurry they left small rough arcs, like ripples in the leaf litter. You just had to get low to the ground to see it more clearly. She, Ubbe and a few others had worked tirelessly into the night using torch light to track the slaves. They had momentarily lost the trail when the Gaels suddenly started covering their tracks. She had crouched down to inspect the ground when she noticed the ripple like arcs of leaves all around, but she found clear sets heading North. Predictable, she thought. Of course, they would go to higher ground to survey their options. Her theory of them heading to higher ground was confirmed, but they found it was for a completely different reason. They had a signal fire.

Ubbe cursed as he heard the horns echo around them. He cursed again when one of the men stepped on a twig alerting the two Gaels that they were closing in. Why did it have to be her? Helfrim thought to herself. Out of the sixteen slaves why did it have to be Ivar’s little ‘pet’ they had found? She was perplexed by his attraction to that foreign whore. What made her so special? She focused her rage on trying to identify where they had gone. She had trailed behind the other men to recuperate for a bit.  She knelt down to examine the footprints. They were still heading north, they were partial, spaced out and relatively large suggesting a fleeing male. She looked for that stupid wench’s tracks but they could not be found.  She backtracked looking for another set. With a frown plastered on her face, she found herself near the base of the hill. Where had she gone? She couldn’t just fall from the face of Midguard.

She leant against the trunk of a tree and huffed. Ivar was going to be pissed, even more than he already was. Frustrated, Helfrim kicked the dirt. Looking down at her feet she noticed the odd shadows the early morning sun cast through the leaves of the trees. She did a double take at the silhouette of a body moving in the branches above her. She froze. The person seemed to be preparing themselves to jump down on her. Steadying herself Helfrim waited till the shadow pounced.

The Gael let out a shriek as she jumped down on her, tackling her to the ground. Helfrim held her hands up to her face defending herself from the girl’s erratic swings. Regaining her senses, she used her leg and wrapped it around the girl's waist as leverage to flip them around. The girl began clawing at Helfrim’s throat before she managed to bunch the wrist together. She stopped squirming and cried out in pain. Helfrim glanced down at the girl’s wrist to see that there were ugly, enflamed burns on the underside of both her wrists. Helfrim dug her thumbs into the wounds and the girl screamed loudly and tears began to well in her eyes. Pathetic. This girl was weak. If she could not fight back she deserved what was coming to her. Taking the rope she dug her thumbs in further so the girl stopped moving in fear of more pain as she bound the wrists together. Helfrim smirked triumphantly as she yanked the girl up to her feet and started the journey back to camp. Ivar will be pleased, she smiled to herself.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really worried that this chapter didn't flow or that it had too much religious jargon in it to be enjoyable. I had to rewrite it a lot. But I have a beta now and she said it was fine and I was just stressin' out. So I guess we'll see if she is right.
> 
> Also, I have a Beta! Yay! Turns out one of my friends (who's a writer as well) is a Vikings fan and I never knew. (Gee what a good friend I am 0-0)
> 
> So here's where things get hairy (ugly or generally bad in Australian lingo). Ethna is officially a thrall now, and she is all alone. What will Ivar do? I guess we will all find out after I get a clear gist for the next chapter. Don't worry I have a general idea, but it's not all together yet. Next chapter might take me a while.
> 
> Special thanks to Zenobia and Marai for you fantastic suggestions for Daibhi's character. I really liked writing him. 
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, it's very encouraging. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co
> 
> Without further or do I will get writing the next chapter. Tytoaster out.


	10. Enthralled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Longer than I intended it to be but it's an important one. This chapter was hard to write and made me uncomfortable at some parts, but, it's not that bad... I think.  
> Warnings: Violence, slavery (duh), torture, mental breakdown, cutting, blood, non-consensual touching and licking, generally icky.  
> (Now that I have written the warnings I suddenly I am not so sure...)  
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it :)

* * *

He brooded at the table, disinterested in lunch. He’d had a sleepless night due to the fact that his bed was now a pile of ash. Words could not begin to describe the rage that swam within him. Everything was fine until his brothers demanded that they have a meeting. He should never have let them tell him what to do. He should never have let her out of his sight. She was gone now. He still couldn't believe it. How had she managed to get free? He knew that Helfrim was excellent at tying knots, she was an able sailor after all. It was a mystery.  

As if summoned by his thoughts the shieldmaiden wrenched the door open. She stood in the doorway, dishevelled, but grinning victoriously.

“I come bearing gifts!“ She exclaimed with a wicked grin. She reached behind her and roughly shoved the Gaelic woman to the ground in front of him. He was in shock. He didn’t think they would be able to find her. The woman peered up at him with tired eyes and then hung her head.

“She was particularly difficult to find…” The shieldmaiden began.

“Leave us!” He hissed.

The shieldmaiden deflated, nodding she turned to leave, “Yes, my prince.”  

“Wait,” he called. She hesitated before closing the door, “Thank you Helfrim.”

“It was my pleasure,” the shieldmaiden gave a brief smile and shut the door.

Ivar turned his attention to the Gael. She looked exhausted. She heaved ragged breaths and pulled herself into a sitting position on the floor and stared down at her bound wrists. He slid off his chair. His mind reeled. She had; humiliated him in front of his brothers, refused to tell him her name, run away, burnt down his tent and two others and she had set the other slaves free, making them lose their only loot they had plundered on this raid. She was in serious trouble, the kind that deserved a death sentence for any other slave. He crawled towards her. She scooted back until she hit the wall. Panicked she looked around for an escape or a weapon. When she saw there were none she started to tremble. He pulled himself to sit in front of her.

“You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble around here, haven’t you?” he smirked.  He leant closer grabbing her forearm and forcing it back keeping both her hands against her stomach.  “I’m going to ask you one simple question and you’re going to answer it thrall,” he began condescendingly. She shook her head in confusion at the foreign words. “What is your name?” She stiffened recognising the phrase. He arched a brow.

She pierced him with her green gaze and new found resolve, **“I tell, if you tell.”** He growled. This was not a trade.

“You’re my thrall and you will obey me!”

“ **I do not underst...** ” she began.

“ **You are my slave and you will listen to me!”** He barked.

 **“I am listening,”** she stated innocently. He gave out a small roar of frustration. She smirked. She was toying with him.

Snarling he latched his hand around her throat.

“I tire of your foolish games!” She gagged and tried to stand up away from him. “Name, now!” She coughed something incomprehensible. “Speak up,” he hissed. He released the pressure but kept his hand on her neck feeling the rushing pulse below it.

 **“Ask nice, I tell,”** she wheezed. He shoved her head back into the wall with a thunk. She winced.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” His nostrils flared. She let another shaking breath out. He himself took a deep breath to calm down. He needed to gain control again. It seemed to him he was going to have to take it up a notch. He unsheathed his knife. A sharp inhale came from the Gael, her eyes focused on his blade extending towards her.

“What is your name?” He asked sinisterly, pointing his blade to her chest. She swallowed. He could see thoughts running through her mind like wild horses.

 **“My name is Esther,”** she replied. He smirked, he was almost certain that her name wasn’t Esther. He had distinctly heard her hesitate.

“Are you sure you are called Esther?” He leant closer. She reared her head back, hitting it against the wall, an action he took note of. “I think you are lying to me thrall,” he whispered into her ear.  He suddenly found he was enjoying this too much, their proximity, the adrenalin and the tension, it was exhilarating. He pulled back and she took another shaky breath. He pressed the tip of the knife to her chest and applied pressure. She grimaced and squirmed. The blade dug slightly deeper until her clothing tore a fraction and a small trickle of crimson ran down the front off her dress. He marvelled at the beautiful contrast of her pale, cream coloured skin and the bright red of her own blood. He leant in again this time pressing his lips against her outer ear, “What is your name?” He rasped.

She shuddered under him, he hummed in satisfaction. It seemed his proximity made her more uncomfortable than anything else he had tried. He made sure he had a firm grip on her arms before he stooped his neck and nestled his head under her chin. He smirked against her skin and slipped his tongue out past his lips, lapping up his handy work, tasting her. She sat frozen with fear and confusion. It was good progress, but he wanted her to scream. Again he started at her collarbone and trailed his tongue down her cool, pale flesh until he hit a roadblock. Rolling his head to the side under her chin, he watched himself place the knife back to that small nick in her dress neckline. She rattled again as he eyed the small cut above her breasts. The sight was arousing, to say the least.  She whimpered and kicked out her legs, voicing distress in her language. Part of him wished she would relax and enjoy his touches, responding to them in kind, but for now, she sobbed.

Applying more pressure he trailed it down lazily, tearing the fabric and skin underneath a few more inches. He bobbed his head down to the new cut.

 **“Stop! I tell you!”** She panicked. He paused, a triumphant smirk crept up on his face.

“Go on, tell me your name then thrall,” he flicked his tongue out again enjoying the coppery sting. She kicked out.

 _“Ethna! It’s Ethna!” S_ he screamed. Effna, he grinned. It was a lovely sounding name. He glanced up at her teary face and stuck his knife into the wall next to her head with a  loud thud.  She flinched. Honestly, he had hoped that she would last longer, it certainly would have been more enjoyable for him. It did not matter, he got what he wanted; he knew her name, he knew what she was afraid of and now she feared him.

He bought a hand and cupped her cheek, stroking a tear away with his thumb.

“There you go Effna,” he cooed. He let go of her arms and brought the other hand to the other cheek and wiped the tears out of those mesmerising eyes, “Did it really have to be that hard?” He then spied something poking out between the tear in her dress. A pendant of some sorts. He moved to grab it and inspect it but she screwed up her face in disgust and gave a hard unexpected shove, pushing him back from her.

The door swung open. Ubbe and Hvitserk trudged in halting as soon as they laid eyes on the pair. Ubbe blinked. Hvitserk grinned.

“Are we interrupting something brother?” Hvitserk asked smugly.

“No,” he turned to glare at his brother, “Effna and I were just finishing up.”

“Effna?” Ubbe asked puzzled.

“That’s her name,” he grinned. Ubbe looked past him at his slave and saw the tears in her eyes and the fresh cut on her chest.  He frowned. Ivar rolled his eyes. “What about the other slaves?” He jumped to another topic.

“Gone, they fled, all except Effna and a monk, they lit a signal fire,” Ubbe gritted. Ivar glanced at his slave. It was difficult to see now, with her sniffling and trying to stick her torn neckline back together in the corner, but somewhere, hidden, was a raging fire. She was quite brave. It wasn’t the kind of bravery that took people into battle, it was a different kind. One that he had yet to understand.

“So the next villages, I assume they know we’re coming?” Ivar asked turning back to his brothers.

“I believe that everywhere from here to Waterford knows we’re coming,” Ubbe stated.

“So what now?” Hvitserk inquired taking a seat at the table eyeing off the roast chicken, “Do we move on? We’ve lost the element of surprise.”

“We are Vikings, there is no question in what we do next; we move on. We attack Waterford and forget these petty villages, they have nothing of value, they’re only good for slaves and since we lost all the ones we had, we now have nothing. We need things of value and fast, to make up for what we lost. Where better to find valuables than the monastery that the merchant spoke of?” He explained.

“I assume you’ve got a plan brother,” Ubbe took a seat and helped himself to a slab of bread. Ivar hauled himself to the table.

“Not an elaborate one, but it’s still something,” he began to pile food onto his plate, “We raid Waterford when night falls. Take what we can and leave. That way we don't return home empty handed,” he suggested.

“I don’t believe that we’ll have much trouble if the warriors of Waterford aren’t that different to the warriors of the villages,” Ubbe agreed. Ivar reached for his cup and Ubbe smirked.

“Effna,” Ubbe called behind Ivar, “Perhaps you’d pour my brother some ale?” Ivar’s eyes shot to the corner to see she was gone. He then turned around in his chair to see Ethna frozen in a crouch. She had been caught slinking a few paces away from the door. She wore a guilty expression mixed with fear.

“How?” Was all he could think as he stared back where he had left her moments ago. Hvitserk chuckled and Ubbe held up the pitcher.

 **“Ale, for my brother,”** Ubbe translated and beckoned her over. Swallowing, Ethna rose and shuffled toward Ubbe. She took the pitcher from him and slowly paced over to Ivar. He held up his cup. She looked down at the ground and began to shakily pour out the ale from the pitcher before she brought up her other hand to steady herself. It was an action he noticed with a creased brow.  He should feel delighted that she was serving him.  But he didn't. He frowned, as disappointment sunk in. Why he got what he wanted? Didn't he? It dawned on him. He wanted her to obey him, be loyal to him, but he didn't want her to do it out of fear, but her own free will. He had made a mistake. Terrifying her was not truly going to accomplish his goals, it actually furthered himself from them.

 It didn’t matter he reassured himself, she needed to learn her place, and how else was he supposed to learn her name? As if she were speaking to him through thoughts he recalled her voice from earlier, 'I tell, if you tell.’  She doesn't know my name, he realised. He watched her curiously as she finished pouring his cup.  She placed the pitcher on the table and stood off to the side wringing her hands together nervously. Wait, weren’t her hands bound? He questioned.

 **“You should also return his knife, ”** Ubbe called slyly. Ivars hand shot to his sheath on his belt that usually housed his knife to feel it empty. He remembered now, he had left it in the wall next to her. She must have used it to cut off her bonds while they were talking. Wincing she hung her head and reached up her sleeve and drew out his knife. She stared at it for a moment as if contemplating about using it. With a defeated sigh she took the blade and offered it to him handle first. Ubbe raised his cup and beckoned her over and Hvitserk followed suit. With a quick glance towards Ivar first, Ethna picked up the pitcher and paced around the table.

“You should watch her more carefully Ivar,” Ubbe smiled.

“Not that it would be hard, she is quite easy on the eyes,“ Hvitserk grinned at Ethna as she filled his cup. Ivar clenched his grip on his cup as he watched his brother’s eyes wonder over his slave’s body.

“Don’t you already have enough women without having to take my thrall as well?” Ivar snarled.

Hvitserk’s smiled disappeared, “I wouldn’t dream of it Ivar.”

“Oh, but I think you would,” Ivar hissed and leant across the table. Ethna’s head swivelled between the two, sensing the tension.

“So when do we move out?” Ubbe intervened. Ivar sighed and leant back in his chair, glaring at Hvitserk before focusing back on their raid.

“We should leave as the sun sets, go under the cover of night and pass the other villages and undetected,” he answered.

“I’ll tell the troops,” Hvitserk jumped up taking his cup with him, eager to leave.

“Tell them to gather provisions, as soon as this raid is over we’ll go back to Kattegat,” Ubbe added before his brother retreated.

* * *

 

They sat in silence. The gentle lapping of the water on the ship's hull was the only familiarity she could find. It reminded Ethna of her father’s boat and the fun her and her brothers use to have when they were young. She closed her eyes and saw Eoin curiously poking the dead fishes eyes, while Brennan moved another one's lips up and down, pretending that it could talk. She saw her father letting her steer and her brothers pretending that she was going to run aground. She then saw her mother smiling, waving and waiting on the dock for them to come back. Oh, mother. Oh, father. Mother and father, she had lost them both now. She had lost them and countless others. Fennore, Brother Daibhi, even Coilean, all gone. She had literally lost her family, but she knew they were alive, that brought some peace to her.

Peace. She almost scoffed, she was anything but at peace right now. The dark-haired Dane had sat her next to him on a bench at the stern of the boat. She was so tired but too afraid to close her eyes. She shuddered at the memory of earlier today. He had strangled her, yet she wasn’t afraid. In fact, she had egged him on hoping that he would kill her. When he pulled out the knife, she was prepared to die, but what followed after that was like nothing she had ever expected or felt before. She had never been more terrified in her life. At first, she was confused, what was he doing? She still didn’t know exactly what he had done. He got close to her, caging her under him, hissing in her ear, making her stomach churn, raising the hairs all over her body. Any resolve she had evaporated. She remembered his expression as he cut her, it was a hungry predatory stare. She remembered the confusion of her stomach fluttering and the prickling running up her spine.

Next came the actions that shook her to the core. He licked her! She squirmed at the memory. The man next to her had violated her in a way she didn’t even know was possible. But she was not angry at him, she was angry at herself. She did nothing, she had remained frozen, doing nothing but quake as he had tasted her blood. And the thing that scared her the most; some minuscule part of her enjoyed it. She felt so ashamed, so dirty. She loathed her own body. Why didn't she move? Why didn’t she struggle harder? She had snapped back when the Dane had started to cut her dress and look down at her breasts. She decided the secrecy of her name was not worth this and came to her senses.

After the ordeal, it was like the Dane was a different person. He was gentle, speaking softly to her and drying away her tears as a hurricane of emotions whirled within her. He confused her. She hated him, but she hated herself more. She had betrayed Fabian. The weight around her neck reminded her. It was his gift to her,  to symbolise the promise she had made to him. When the Dane had reached for Fabian’s pendant, she took action, pushing him back in disgust, not at him, no, disgust at herself. What would Fabian think of her?

She knew that in all truth, the Dane hadn’t done the worst to her. He hadn’t forced himself on her. But, that only alarmed her further, what was in the future for her if he had done all this just to find out her name? She thanked God for the darkness that hid her silent tears from him. He shifted and reached for something. She shivered again, what was he going to do now? In the dark, her eyes could define his outline rummaging through a sack. He turned back to her and presented her with something.

The coarse wool, the warmth, the smell of herbs and smoke were familiar. It was her cloak. He must have taken it with him.

“ **Cold?”**  He whispered. She let out a little snort. Oh, how their positions had changed in the past few days. She gingerly took it from him and wrapped it around herself.

 **“Thank you,”** she voiced sheepishly. He had no idea how much this cloak meant to her. She knew she would never get an apology, she was a daor now, but something told her this action was his own way of expressing an apology she’d never get.

“ **In my language;** _Tak,”_ he informed.

“ _Tak?”_ She tested. The Dane nodded. He seemed apprehensive and shifted nervously in his seat.

“ _Ivar._ ” He stated suddenly. She furrowed her brow.

“ **What does that mean?”** She inquired.

 _“_ **My name is** _Ivar,”_ he introduced.

“Imar?” It didn’t sound quite right coming from her mouth.

 _“Ivar, I-vv-ar,”_ he emphasised

“Imff... fvv...Ivar? Ivar,” she tried, he nodded. She then thought to correct him in his pronunciation of her name. She held a hand to her chest, “Ethna.”

 _“I know your name is Effna.”_ She almost heard his eyes roll.

“Ethna, **not** ff,” she corrected, “Th, E-th-na.”

“E...fsna?”She shook her head, he tried again, “E...fs...th..thna, Ethna?” She smiled sadly and nodded.

Ethna. It was the same name she had all her life, but now it felt like it had been redefined. She was no longer Ethna, the healer’s apprentice or Ethna, Fabian’s woman nor was she Ethna Nic Cuirtin. Now she was Ethna, Ivar’s daor. This was her life now, but she’d be damned if she let it stay this way. She would regain her freedom. She would run away again, this she promised herself. She needed to bide her time, plan and wait for the right moment. She vowed right then and there that she wouldn’t allow herself to die a daor.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write. Not because of actions (that was more awkward than anything else) but because this chapter has a lot of emotional baggage and internal stuff. Which drove me mad. I rewrote this thing like 4 times. Also, I had seven points planned for this chapter but only ended up doing 3 and totally discarding the rest. I thought that after the beacon was lit that the brothers would rather go back to Kattegat then risk it, but when I re-examined the idea I literally hit myself in the forehead, was I half asleep writing my first outline, probably. There is no way in the world Vikings would go back home at this point it would be seen as cowardly. Also, they've got no loot, the whole point of a raid is to get loot. So next chapter: raid! Yay! (Oh my gods how in the hell am I going to write that??!?!?)  
> Thanks to Zenobia for your wonderful Esther alias suggestion, It was a good idea.  
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, it's very encouraging. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co
> 
> Without further or do I will get writing the next chapter. Tytoaster out.


	11. The Futility of Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sucks. It's just a filler, but it's important filler and also it has more bad ass Ethna. Also, there is a fair bit of violence in this one.
> 
> Warnings: Violence, slavery (duh), Blood (And lots of it), cutting, stabbing, attempted rape, death, killing, bodies, book burning (this triggers me so...)
> 
> Note: Huginn and Muninn are Odin's ravens, literal eyes in the sky.  
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it :)

* * *

There was dead silence. The four long boats glided towards Waterford without a sound. Up ahead the light from the township’s soft glow reflected on the water. The tension and adrenalin was so thick in the air he could feel it tingle his skin. Their defences were weak, they had openings in the walls along the river. They were fools he thought to himself as he slung his quiver over his shoulder. Next to him, Ethna shifted nervously. He guessed she didn’t really approve of him killing more of her countrymen. What was he going to do with her? He couldn’t take her with him, it would probably terrify her more. He had to leave her on the ship, but how could he make sure she didn’t try to run away again? He could order someone to guard her, but he didn’t trust his men.

As the first ship neared the port Ethna shifted again. She wrung her hands in her lap and she lifted her gaze up to the township. She bit her lip and shot a quick glance at him then back at the port ahead. What was she doing?

 _“DANES ARE…”_ He abruptly clapped his hand over her mouth muffling her screams, but it was too late, the silence was broken. Murderous glances from all the crew pierced her. Now he definitely couldn’t leave her with any of the crew members, they would kill her. He shot her a warning gaze. He was going to have to do something about her sudden spurts of courage.

Foreign voices rang out in the night. A loud clanging of bells joined the voices and screams. His timid thrall had single-handedly thwarted their plan for a surprise attack.

“It’s now or never!” Ubbe shouted from another boat somewhere. The oarsmen picked up speed with no care for how much noise they were making. Up ahead, the first ship reached the port and the crew clambered off and charged into the through an arch into the town with a thunderous roar. The second ship followed close behind. He yanked Ethna flush against his chest.

“I'm going to make you regret that later,” He hissed in her ear. She responded by biting his hand. Hard. He yowled in surprise and withdrew it from her mouth. She shimmied out of his grasp and hit the deck. She backed herself up against the side of the boat and curled her knees to her chest. He sat there still in shock. He couldn’t believe it. She had bitten him!

He examined the red indents her teeth had left on his palm. A small trickle of blood snaked down his palm. A shiver ran down his spine. There was that fight. That fire that he admired. He let out a small chuckle and grinned back down at her as he licked the broken skin.  She screwed up her face in disgust. She didn't share his opinion of the beautiful elixir.

The warriors around him began to shout and holler battle cries, clashing swords against their shields. The ship lurched as it bumped against the dock. His raiders scrambled out. As he pulled up his crutches he spotted one person linger. Another slave, she must have tagged along with one of the raiders.

“You there! Thrall!” The blonde's head swivelled in his direction.

“Yes, prince Ivar?” She asked.

“Watch her as if you were Huginn and Muninn. If she escapes, I will hold you personally responsible,” he threatened.

“Yes, of course,” the thrall nodded profusely.

 **“Stay here, I will be back,”** he told Ethna. She acknowledged him with a curt smile, but it didn’t quite to reach her eyes.

 _“I pray you come back in pieces.”_ She replied something venomous in her native tongue. He arched a brow and hauled himself out of the boat and onwards towards the sound of clashing metal and screams.

* * *

 

The woman's grey, dull eyes squinted at her. She examined her as if she was some unknown creature. 

 _“What is it about you hmm?”_ She reached out a calloused hand to touch her hair. Ethna recoiled. _“It can’t be your hair it’s not that different.”_ Undeterred the woman reached out again, this time Ethna slapped her hand away.

“No.” She commanded, hoping the one word would speak volumes.

“ _You’re a feisty one when you want to be, aren't you? We'll see how long that lasts._ ” She cackled something and turned away. Her body screamed at her to shut her eyes, she hadn’t slept properly in days. But her mind conflicted with her.  How could she think of sleep at a time like this? The screams and sounds of battle blended into one mass of noise behind her somewhere. Everyone had left except this woman. The opportunity was too good to turn down. Now could be her last chance to escape while on her home soil.

 _“I hope you don’t disappoint him under the furs, I heard what happened to the last woman who slept with him, poor thing like you won’t be able to do much but hasten your demise.”_ The woman murmured something and fiddled with a sack of supplies. Her back was turned to her. Now was her chance. She searched for something she could use as a weapon. Unfortunately, it seemed they had all been taken. She was going to have to improvise. She needed something relatively heavy and easy to grip. She cast a glance at the long wooden object that fitted the description. She took it in her hands. Lifting the oar above her shoulder she crept up behind the woman. _“I bet he’ll kill you before this month is over.”_ She continued to snigger. Ethna was a few paces from the woman when the deafening creak of timber beneath her foot alerted the woman. Hastily she swung the oar with all her might as the woman turned around. There was a loud crack on collision and the woman slumped in a heap on the deck.  

“Hollow drums make the most noise,” Ethna remarked and dropped the oar with a loud clatter.

* * *

 

Wrapping her cloak around her Ethna leapt off the boat and onto the docks. She looked around for a boat she could commandeer easily. Unfortunately, these boats were all made for crews of men, not a single person. She needed to get out of the city by foot. She crept up to the nearest arch and peeked around the corner.  The fighting had moved onwards leaving a bloody trail of devastation in its wake. Bloody corpses of merchants and King Cenn Fáelad's guards littered the ground. The king of Munster must have heard of the raids and sent men to the capitals to aid them. Judging by the number of guards laying amongst the masses of merchants and peasant men and boys, it was a half-hearted effort. She shivered and wrapped her cloak around her tighter.  

The church bells had stopped ringing. She knew what that meant. A pang of pain flared in her chest as she surveyed the slain.  A woman’s scream echoed around her. Her breath quickened and her head swivelled. There was nothing she could do. The woman would be dead in a few seconds. But, the woman kept screaming and Ethna knew that it was not death the Danes had in store for the woman. Ethna head bubbled with nausea.

“God no! Please no! No! Someone help me! God help me!” She heard the woman plead. Nausea bloomed into rage as she remembered the fate of Cuán’s sister. No more, she told herself. She probably couldn’t do much to help, but she could damn well try. This had to stop. She surged forward to one of the fallen guards and pried his sword from his cold dead grasp. Blood soaked the hem of her dress as she tore across the courtyard toward the screaming.

She reached a small building where the screams were coming from. Ethna crept up and nudged the door open. A crying woman lay on the ground her dress torn and hiked up, her wrists were held by a Dane who was fumbling with the ties of his breeches. No more, she repeated. She raised the heavy sword above her head and let out an animalistic roar as she charged at him. The Dane turned in surprise as she brought the sword down on his unprotected shoulder slicing through the bone almost separating his arm from his torso. Blood and sinew splattered everywhere. The man screamed in agony.  He let go of the woman and clasped at his hanging, limp, arm. Ethna stared in horror at her own work. Her sword clattered to the ground in shock. What had she done?

Seizing the opportunity the woman took up the sword and screeched wildly as she hacked and jabbed sporadically at the Dane. He died after the second slash, however, the woman wanted to make sure he would never be revived.

“Die you devil bastard!” The woman screamed and relentlessly hacked the now mangled mess of a corpse. Gore and blood was plastered on her face now. Ethna flinched with every swing and slice. “Die! Damn you!” The woman sobbed. Ethna turned her head away from the body and crouched down next to the woman placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t think he can hurt you anymore, he looks pretty dead to me,” Ethna gently took the sword from her grasp. The two pale tear tracks stood out from the red muck caked on the older woman's face. “We have to go,” Ethna helped the woman to her feet. “Where is the nearest city gate?”

“I’ll show you,” the woman nodded, “Thank you lass, Thank you so much,” she sniffled.

Cautiously the two snuck out of the building and down a street. Ethna held the bloody sword up and front of her. It’s weight unfamiliar. They had just killed a man. She was covered in his blood. The life that once flowed through him was now splattered over her. She was wearing a dead man. The notion made her skin crawl. He deserved it, she told herself. He did, but his demise was not something she had wanted to witness or take any part of. You saved her, her mind consoled, who else could've? You did a good thing. Ethna let a tiny smile grace her lips. She had saved her. The smile didn’t last.

“Run!” The woman shrieked and bolted away. Ethna tried to follow but vice like grip constricted her arms and chest. The sword was snatched from her hand and she was lifted up off the ground.

* * *

 

 

“Let me go!” She kicked her legs and wriggled. There was a deep chuckle from behind her.

 _“Hello again, fancy seeing you here.”_ The voice was familiar. That grinning man who Ivar disliked.

“God damn you and your filthy kin!” She snarled and continued to struggle.

 _“Hvitserk put her down,”_ Another voice groaned. It was the tall blonde who called Ivar brother. Reluctantly the grinning man set her down. She turned around and glared at the tall blonde and his friend. They were also covered in drying blood.

 _“Gods, what has she been doing?”_ He asked his friend something.

 _“Killing our own by the looks of it_.” They looked her up and down. She shuddered under their inspection, she wrapped her cloak around her and realised it too was soaked in blood. There was blood everywhere. She tried to wipe it from her face but only smeared it around more.

 _“I don’t think she is the type, she was probably defending herself.”_ The tall blonde took a step forward, she took a step back. He then froze, **“Come on, Effna.”** He implored and gestured for her to follow.

 **“No, I not go back,”** she stated. The tall blonde sighed and rubbed his forehead.

 **“You can walk or we can drag you,”** he told her. The tall blonde was trying to give her choice and dignity, she appreciated that, but she didn’t want to go back for obvious reasons.  She sighed and glanced down at the inflamed burns on her wrists. She had been caught, they would take her anyway. More rope would only make the pain worse. Grumbling she fell in step behind the blonde while the grinning man brought up the rear.

They lead her towards a large bonfire in the centre in another courtyard. The Danes were chortling and haphazardly tossing scrolls and books into the flames. She stopped and gaped. The savages. Did they not know what they were burning? All that hard work of monks and scholars to pass on their knowledge and history to the next generation was now going up in smoke. The grinning man nudged her forward. She reluctantly continued forward toward the fire. The tall blonde stopped to talk to another Dane. Her foot hit something solid. She looked down to see a charred book. She stooped down and snatched up the book to rescue it. She ghosted a finger over the title. _The Art of Ailments._ Fennore’s teacher had taught her using a copy of this very book. Before she could open it, the book was snatched from her grasp by the grinning man.

“Give it back!” She ordered. He only chuckled mischievously and raised it above his head. She jumped at it, it was just out of her reach. He laughed at her and aimed to throw it into the flames.  Before it left his hands, the tall blonde yanked it from him.

 _“Hvitserk, leave her alone, she has been tormented enough.”_ He chastised his friend. He turned the book upside down and shook it as if to check for a weapon in its pages. He glanced at Ethna and flicked through the pages, examining the diagrams and illustrations. He stopped at a certain page and looked back up at Ethna, the corners of his mouth lifted into a curious grin.

 **“Are you a healer?”** He asked.

Furrowing her brow Ethna nodded and brought her index finger and thumb up indicating a small amount, **“A Little. I learn healer work.”**

He smiled and snapped the book shut and handed it back to her, **“Good.”**  She grasped her treasure tightly and slid it into the hood of her cloak.

* * *

 

 

 _“There she is! That Gaelic bitch!”_ A woman screeched. She looked past the tall blonde to see the woman she had knocked out marching across the courtyard. Her wispy blonde hair had blood drying in it from the wound Ethna had inflicted. But Ethna was more concerned with who tailed the raging woman as she marched across the courtyard.  The tall blonde turned to face her and her friend.

 _“Good evening, Helfrim, Runi,”_ He greeted while the Brunette stared daggers at her. Ethna swallowed. _“Will you escort Effna back to the ship?”_

 _“Oh, it would be my pleasure Ubbe.”_ The brunette sneered.

“ _Be gentle with her Helfrim_.” The tall blonde reminded her about something but she either didn’t care or didn't hear him as she grinned wickedly at Ethna. The grinning man nudged her forward again. When she didn’t move the brunette lunged forward and dug her nails into her burns and jerked her forward. Ethna screamed in pain and stumbled forward.   _"Gentle!"_ The Tall blond hissed something in warning.

The brunette drew her sword and held it at her back, _“Get moving wench.”_  As she was prodded back toward the boat her heart sunk, her escape had been pointless, again.  That was her last chance. Now she would have to be a lot smarter and creative. She sighed, at least that woman had gotten away, she consoled herself. She had saved her, and that was not pointless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go. Ivar got bitten, Ethna nearly killed someone, the nameless woman got away, Hvitserk is kind of a jerk, a book was saved and a new antagonist duo emerges. It leaves two questions;  
> 1\. Where was Ivar, what was he doing?  
> 2\. What is Ubbe so happy about?
> 
> I guess you'll have to find out.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co
> 
> Without further or do I will get writing the next chapter. Tytoaster out.


	12. Immersion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long cause I just wanted to get these scenes over with so next chapter we can get to the good stuff. Prepare to be even more intrigued about Ethna.
> 
> Note; Merrows, the Irish version of mermaids, considered to be part fish, in that they have a red cap that gives them human form and if you keep it you can keep them on land in human form, similar to Selkies which are part seal
> 
> Warnings: Violence, Slavery (duh), Blood, mentioned death, drowning, perceived suicide, coarse language

* * *

The cool morning air was riddled with barks of laughter. His men staggered back to the ships, arms full of as much loot they could carry. Golden and silver trinkets, vases, goblets, tapestries, jewellery for lovers, coins and embroidered cloth for mothers were some of many items he could see. He himself had a hefty sum of silver, but the blood and the totems around his neck brought a greater feeling of accomplishment. How those bald men did nothing but kneel and murmur pleas to their false God, then scream as his arrows buried within their flesh and his axe hacked them to pieces. He revelled in ripping their little wooden crosses from them, as tallies, to count how many of them he had wiped from the world. Seventeen bloody crosses hung from his neck. He would enjoy burning the crude wooden ones to cinders. He smiled at the thought of smelting the silver ones down to recraft them into Mjölnir. These Christians, they were a disease, spreading, killing the old ways of their host. The way he saw it he was doing the foreign peasants a favour, sparing them from their pompous kings that called themselves men of God, yet, were no better than pigs.

At the thought of foreign peasants, he remembered his most valuable piece of loot; Ethna. She was waiting for him. He could not wait to take her back to his home, to her new life. His eyes searched for his thrall as he hobbled on his crutches towards the ship. Strange relief washed over him when he spotted her perched at the side of the boat where he had left her.  It was almost like he had expected her not to be there. As soon as he boarded the boat he noticed something was off. Ethna was leaning over the side scooping water into her hands and furiously scrubbing at her arms and face. The thrall he had put in charge of watching her was sitting on a bench cursing as Helfrim cleaned a wound on her head.

“That bitch is lucky Ubbe found her before I did ‘cause I would’ve…”

“Would have what?” He asked slyly. So Ethna had tried to escape.

“Prince Ivar!” The thrall jumped in shock, “I uh… umm… nothing...I would have done nothing.”

“Yes, it appears you’re very good at doing that. If you weren’t, she wouldn't have gotten away from you in the first place,” he sneered. Helfrim tensed and the thrall looked as if she was going to faint. “But to your credit,” he added, “You did get her back, and I’m in a good mood so I shall excuse your incompetence for now. However, if you so much as sneeze out of turn, I will kill you,” he snarled and brushed past the women. In all honesty, he wasn’t surprised Ethna had made another attempt to escape. He was going to have to take Ubbe’s advice and watch her more carefully.

He sat down next to his thrall who was still leaning over the side. She had taken off her cloak and was now rinsing it in the river.

“Ethna,” he called. She continued to wash her cloak. He looked at the back of her dress, there were small splatters of blood. He raised and eyebrow, “Ethna,” he growled. When she ignored him he grabbed her waist and hauled her down next to him. She squeaked in protest and the drenched cloak slopped onto the deck.

“ **When I talk to you, you listen...** ” He trailed off he could see her front now, she was covered in blood. It was smeared across her face, crusting on her hands. He stared at her in shock. “What have you done?” he asked perplexed. She must have run into some of their own raiders. She must have defended herself. He didn't know whether to feel pride or rage. He brought his hand up to her cheek and turned her face towards him. Somewhere in the background he heard his brothers order cast off and the ship began to move. He studied her. Right now, Ethna looked so much more powerful than she really was. Evidence of that fire, that raged inside of her was plastered over her skin and it was beautiful. He wet his lips. He knew that she would never be a shieldmaiden on the field of battle, coating herself in the death of her enemies, but the image was enticing. He saw them, covered in their enemies blood moving together writhing, pushing and pulling each other after the battle was won. His breeches constricted him slightly. He leant forward.

She leant back, her warm face disappeared from his fingertips. He snatched her chin and brought her face back to look at him. He leant forward in an attempt to capture her lips. She shoved him back roughly like yesterday before his breath even tickled her face.

“ **No.”** She spat defiantly. She looked at him with such hatred. The strange haze that surrounded him cleared. Who was she to reject him? He owned her. She was his. His good mood soured. He glared at her. He wanted to tame and control her flames. Have her burn _for_ him, not burn _him_. She stared at his chest in horror. “ _Murderer.”_ She snarled something.

“You are a thrall. I care not what you think of me,” he replied. She glared back at him.

 _“I spared you,”_ she began frowning at the crucifixes. _“I spared you!”_ She repeated her foreign phrase shaking her head, “ _Because I was foolish enough to believe you were human, I see now that I was wrong!”_ She screamed at him.  Heads turned. She was making a fool of him.

“Shut up! You do not talk to me that way!” He ordered clamping down on her wrists. She jerked and screamed in pain. He furrowed his brow and loosened his grip. That should not have hurt her that badly. He examined her wrist to find raw, red, ugly burns.  He looked back up at her in awe. So that's how she escape the bonds, he concluded, she burnt them off. It must have been excruciatingly painful. He removed his hand from her wrist and gripped her arm instead. He decided that if he was going to make her understand her position he should start by telling her in a language she could understand. “ **You are mine. Your life is mine. Your actions are mine. Your body is mine.  You are to please me. You are to do as I say when I say it, or you will suffer. Do you understand me Ethna?** ” She remained silent and glaring. He slowly slid his hand down her arm till he reached her wrist and he squeezed. She cried out.  “ **Do you understand me? Yes or no?** ” He growled.

“ **Yes,”** she whimpered.

 **“Yes, who?”** He asked clamping down harder.

 **“Yes Ivar!”**  He released her.

“Good,” he stated. He let go of her wrist and snaked an arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him. She stiffened.

He didn't wish to frighten her further but he still wanted to show her he was in control. He had won and she was now his.  He stared at her for a moment before reaching out again. He ran his hand from her waist up to her back. He reached her hair. He played with the ebony braid, enjoying its smooth, yet, textured feel between his fingers. She remained staring straight ahead at the rising sun with a blank and exhausted expression. He wanted to grin, to laugh even smirk, but he found he couldn’t. He should feel triumphant after his feats last night and his successful raid. He should be glad to be going home, that he had her and silver. But instead, he felt just as empty as Ethna looked right now and he did not know why.

* * *

 

The smell of salt water stung her nostrils. They would pass Leamh soon.  Then they would hit the open ocean and Eire would disappear into a pinpoint on the horizon. She hated this. She hated them. She hated him. Why her? She silently screamed at God. Daibhi had said this happened for a reason. She had come to the conclusion that there had to be a reason. There just had to be, there was no way all her escape attempts would have failed if there wasn't.

Ivar shifted next to her and the crucifixes around his neck clinked together like a morbid windchime. She shivered. What would he do to her if he found out she believed in the same God as the priests and monks he had killed? He would kill her or worse she concluded. She swallowed at the thought of _worse_. Once she had believed that there was nothing worse than death, but the past few days had proven her wrong. She had witnessed just how much of a mercy death was. She now understood her brother's judgment and actions.

She was terrified. Terrified of Ivar. Terrified of her future. The way he looked at her before shook her to the core. She had heard rumours and stories about how daors were treated by the Danes, none of them were pleasant. Judging by the way Ivar looked at her and touched her, she doubted that he just wanted her to wash his clothes and make him breakfast. He wanted to take what she had promised to Fabian. She vowed to herself, to God and to Fabian, that she would not give it to him easily, she would fight him if he dared to try. But deep down she knew it was pointless. She could try and fight but she would lose. If it was God's will for her to return to Fabian untouched, then it would be done by some miracle. If not, that would be a hard thing to accept, but, there would be a reason. Daibhi had seemed so sure, so faithful, that she had survived and freed him for a reason and he had been right. That reason was for him to die after inspiring hope in her and the others. Not all fates were pleasant for oneself, but for others, they could be life changing.  

Up ahead she saw the familiar, small, weathered dock and clusters of buildings. It was eerie. This was her home for so many years of her life and now that she saw it barren and deserted, she realised that only the people who had lived there had made it home. Fennore, Father Leanan, Fabian and his family, her family, even those who tormented her family, they all had a place in her heart. She remembered when the children had called Connor spineless, and the name stuck to the entire family like sap, implying that they were cowards because of the misshapen backbones in the family. She remembered that the younger generation had cast Fennore as a sorceress and labelled Ethna as a witch through association and had mocked her and her brothers, calling them demon spawn. She remembered that the older generation spread rumours that they were descendants of Merrows. She remembered that they accused her mother of lying with fae when she had healthy children and deemed Connor the only legitimate son of the hunchback, because of the pain in his back and assumed he was cursed with useless legs because of his mother's sin. But, through the ridicule, the family had grown strong. Keeping to each other's company. Watching out for each other. Her family united, while others fell apart around them due to drink and infidelity. In a way, the name tags and rumours were part of home too, but even that was gone.

As they glided past her once home. An idea sprouted in her mind. A way to ensure that it was really God's will for her to leave Eire as a daor, or a way to free her from her suffering. She glanced at Ivar from the corner of her eye. She smiled as she saw the tall blonde jump ship and saunter towards them. Subtly she edged away from his side as he began to converse with his brother. This was the stupidest thing she had ever done. But right now she was so desperate and exhausted, that she honestly thought anything could be a good idea.  She contemplated the consequences, if they caught her, it would not end well for her and probably result in her being bound or exhausting Ivar’s patience with her. But if she got away, she’d be free. It would be taxing on her body, she was starving, sleep deprived and sore. If she were in her normal state she’d be able to swim and cross the Suir and back without any issue. But like this? There was a chance she wouldn’t make it. She reached the conclusion that it didn’t matter, it was her last chance, and if she had one last shot at freedom in her own country she should take it or die trying. Besides, they were not too far away from the bank and if she perished, she perished. Ethna knew; there were far worse ways to die than to drown.

* * *

 

It happened so fast. One minute she was sitting next to his brother looking defeated, the next she was in the drink. He blinked. What just happened?

“No!” Ivar roared. He clambered to the edge and reached into the water aimlessly grappling at the ripples.

“Can she swim?” Was all Ubbe managed to ask.

“I don’t know… the stupid bitch can drown for all I care!” Ivar sputtered. Ubbe frowned at his brother’s words, his voice and face told two very different stories. Ubbe reasoned Effna could swim, but he thought she would have surfaced by now. He didn’t like the way this was heading. He had heard of raids where the thralls threw themselves overboard and ended their lives. If Effna truly was this afraid of Ivar, perhaps she could see no other way out.  

“Bring the ship around!” Ivar ordered the helmsman. Ubbe shrugged off his jacket. “Why hasn’t she come up?! She should have come up!” his brother continued to rant.  

“I don’t think she wants to come up,” he gritted before Ubbe leapt over the side into the water.

The cold water burned. It was a shock to his body but he surfaced and furiously paddled in the general direction of where he last saw her. He ducked under, all he saw was nothing in every direction. He surfaced again and paddle forward while behind him the boat turned and his brother yelled that it was further back they had lost her. Ubbe cried out her name and continued to swim forward. He kept swimming till he was in line with a large elder tree on the bank and Ivar shouted that that’s where she went over.  He dived down and below him, he spotted the faint outline of a body reaching up towards him. He sprung to the surface and took a large gulp of air before diving back down. She had been under for a long time now but there was still hope. Her face was panicked and she was grasping up towards the surface. He looked down and saw her dress was snagged on a branch of a dead, fallen, submerged tree. She was panicking too much to free herself.

He swam down and unhooked her from the tree’s grasp, but she didn’t make for the surface. She floated, suspended in the water, eyes closed and unmoving.  No. He couldn’t let her die. Ivar would be furious and his own plan would be ruined. He wrapped his arms under her’s and pushed off the tree towards the surface, his own lungs aching. They broke the surface he sputtered while she remained silent and unmoving. He reached the ship and men helped and hauled them over the edge onto the deck.

“Is she breathing?” Ivar asked trying to not show his concern. Ubbe had never seen his brother like this. It confirmed what he already suspected, Ivar was attached to this girl, but afraid to show it. It was good, it was fantastic in fact, that Ivar had taken interest in a woman. There was hope yet that he would find love and happiness. However, none of that would come to pass if Effna died.

“She’s not breathing, Brother she’s not breathing,”Ivar murmured a prayer to Freya under his breath and continued to rave, “You stupid woman, why did you do that?!” A crowd had begun to gather around the drenched girl.

As she was not breathing, Ubbe reasoned water was blocking her airway, perhaps he could try to expel it. He pried her mouth open and shoved two of his fingers down her throat. The girl flinched suddenly. He withdrew his fingers as she vomited river water over the deck. She coughed violently and sucked in desperate breaths.

Ubbe turned to the gawking crew, “Get back to work there is nothing to see here,” he ordered. They dispersed.  Effna’s eyes snapped open and looked at him before they rolled back into her head and she slumped again. Ivar crawled over to her and lifted her head onto his lap.

“Why would she do something so stupid?” Ivar snarled, “Why doesn’t she open her eyes?”

“She is breathing now Ivar, I think she is just tired. When was the last time you fed her or let her sleep?” Ivar clenched his jaw and swallowed. Ubbe could see the guilt in his eyes.

“I haven’t…” he looked back down at his thrall not finishing his sentence.

“Perhaps you should when she wakes up,” Ubbe offered as he wrapped a towel around his shoulders. His brother had a great deal to learn.

* * *

 

She had seen this before, she remembered now the same dream was given to her three days before the Danes had arrived. It started with her in a forest watching as a white doe drank from a stream. She watched as a faceless hunter drew a bow and took aim, he had it lined up perfectly, yet, he lowered his bow and crept forward pulling out a rope. She watched on as he jumped from the bushes pouncing on the deer. The creature struggled but in the end, it was hog tied and slung over the hunter’s back. It was here her previous dream hand ended, but this time the dream continued. Below her, the earth shook and two magnificent stags thundered toward the hunter. One was white with golden horns and the other was black with horns of silver. They charged the hunter, but before they reach the other side of the stream it widened. Waves tumbled from the sky washing everything away and surrounding her with water. She saw herself drowning.

She, however, couldn’t move to save herself, she watched herself scream as the air left her lungs as a wispy accented voice echoed around her.  

“My gift falls to you, to be your burden,” The scene shifted and she found herself standing in an aisle while Fabian was in a clean white tunic waiting by an altar looking towards her. She was yanked from the church to a battlefield where Eoin swung a sword fiercely while Dane’s surrounded him. She cried out to him then sunk into the bloody ground and fell to the stone floor of a throne room. In the moonlight, she saw Brennan screaming with rage as he thrust a dagger into a wooden throne. The world shifted again and she saw Connor sitting at a table, a game piece in hand smiling at his opponent, Ivar. The two turned to face her and the candles snuffed out, leaving her in darkness. When her vision was restored and she saw Peigi sitting in front of a fireplace holding a burning piece of parchment.

She managed to take a step forward and the ground fell away, she tumbled into a room filled with a woman’s screaming. She saw Maeve covered in sweat as women buzzed around her.

A hand lighted on her shoulder she turned to face a tall woman. She had dark blonde hair, piercing dark blue eyes, lined with black kohl and she was dressed regally in a red dress, she was a Dane.

“The woman you hold so dear will die a death caused by her babe,” she warned. It was her, the voice she had heard before. Ethna shot a worried glance back to Maeve as she laboured. “And her death shall seal your fate by fire or ice.” The woman continued. The visions faded and left her in darkness but the woman’s voice continued to echo around her. “You can not run from your fate, Ethna Nic Cruitin, you can try, but all attempts will end in vain.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you guys forgot about her Deja Vu moment went she first met Ivar, well now you know what that was about. And here is where the real fun begins. Ethna has an ominous future ahead of her.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co
> 
> Without further or do I will get writing the next chapter. Tytoaster out.


	13. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter but after I wrote it and realised I have enough content for two chapters. At school, things are really starting to get packed and I might not upload for a while as I’ll be busy. So I uploaded the first half this weekend and then the other half will be uploaded next weekend so I can focus on school work. Anyway, hope you enjoy this one. 
> 
> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, sexual references

* * *

It felt like they had been sailing for eternity, even though they had only been tossing to and throw for a few days. She was tired of Ivar trying to teach her his language, tired of him constantly touching her hair and stroking her arms. Anxiety was eating away her ability to sleep. Not only was she afraid of the men around her, she was also afraid of that woman in her dreams. The first week, she had the same visions over and over. She worried for Eoin on the battlefield, but she worried for Maeve the most. The woman said that the woman she held so dear would die because of her babe. Maeve was the only woman still alive that she held dear and she was expecting to give birth in six months time and Ethna had been told through a vision that she would die in childbirth and she could not stop it. It frightened and frustrated her. She woke in tears and sweat after every dream.

Eventually, the visions left her almost as suddenly as they came. It was a relief to know that not every night of her life would be plagued by this new burden that was troubling and taxing on her body. However, she did find solace in two things; God had answered her prayers and Fabian was waiting for her by the altar. It was God's will for her to be taken North, the visions only confirmed that. They also confirmed she would return to Fabian. God's answer was difficult to accept and confusing, but she trusted him, he knew what he was doing. In a place where she had no friends and no familiarity, God was the only one she could trust.

Some good things had come from the weeks confined to one space. The cuts Ivar had inflicted healed. She had also learned the names of Ivar’s brothers, Ubae and Mitserk. She managed to treat her own burns with salt water and bandages that Ubae had given her. They healed, but the process was tedious. Ethna had also been provided with some entertainment. She had to hold in a laugh every time Ivar threw up over the side of the boat. Such a fierce warrior chucking up dried fish every day never failed to amuse her. She didn’t get sick at sea, her father said she had good sea legs, perhaps because of Ivar’s condition, he had bad sea legs. Those few things were the only positives she could find in her situation.  After her impromptu swim, Ivar had taken it upon himself to tie her to the mast. Now she sat, wrists bound and a rope around her neck like a dog, it was humiliating.  

However, the dark haired Dane was not the only one causing her grief. The brunette woman and her daor made her life more miserable wherever they could. She found out their names were Helfrim and Rooni. They purposely tipped her bowl of water over multiple times, they yanked on her hair, spat on her and sniggered in her direction. Ethna could understand why Rooni was upset; she had hit her with an oar after all, but it was still a mystery to her why this Helfrim hated her. In all her life she had never met anyone as petty and spiteful as those two women, and that was saying something considering she had known Coilean all her life.

A squawk above her caused her to glance up. A seagull glided through the air. Land, she thought as the crew around her whooped and hollered with joy. She hung her head. She didn't want to look at this new land, she wanted to deny it's existence, but the temptation was too great. She gawked at the beautiful cliffs. Waterfalls cascaded down from high rocks. She had never seen anything like it. It was as if there were mountains upon mountains. The sky was a mixed palette of grey and it made it hard to distinguish them from the high rocks.

Ahead of the boat was the township, Catigatt, she believed it was called. It was bigger than any town she had seen. The buildings looked different too. They were all wooden, there was not a brick or a mud and flax structure in sight.  Even far away she could hear the mess of chatter and the noise only grew as an excited crowd formed waiting for them. Men on the boats cried out to their relatives with joy. A thought then crossed her mind; everyone on this boat had a mother or father, wife or husband, siblings and children. They were no different to any other people on Earth. Yet, it was an easy fact to forget, they seemed so different, inhuman, monstrous.

Ethna’s rope around her neck lost it's slack. She turned to see Ivar unfastening it from the mast, he had that sheen in his eye. Over the journey, she had observed that he never truly smiled. There was not one ounce of real happiness in him. But, there were times when he would have this joyous glint in his eyes and an evil looking grin. It would almost look like how she imagined him if he were to ever wear a genuine smile. She identified this ‘look’ as excitement or anticipation and he was wearing it now. That glint was a bad omen for her. She was tugged off the boat and people pressed forward, spotting loved ones. Taking in her surroundings she swivelled behind her and discovered a line of people connected by a rope. Her heart sank as she realised; there were other slaves taken from Waterford.

* * *

 

He growled in annoyance. They had barely gotten off the boat before they hit a roadblock. His path was blocked by his sister in law and his brothers. He held Ethna’s rope loosely in one hand as he sat watching Margrethe shove her tongue down his brother’s throats. He hated that woman. If she wasn’t his brother’s wife he would have killed her. In annoyance, he glanced back at Ethna. She had her brow furrowed in confusion and was averting her eyes. It must be strange in her culture to share a wife, he reasoned. He looked back to his brothers and rolled his eyes, they were still at it.

“Can you three get out of the way or take it somewhere else? We have cargo to unpack and things to do other than watch you mouth hump each other,” he hissed.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s eager to get some alone time,” Hvitserk winked.

Margrethe tried to discretely tug on Ubbe’s sleeve, concern plastered across her face voicing her inner thoughts. Ivar wanted to do nothing more than wring her skinny little neck. He didn't care what she thought, she had no reason to fear for Ethna’s safety. Unlike her, Ethna was worthy of her life, she had proven it to him when they first met.  She was unique, intriguing and clever. Margrethe was a dime a dozen beauty. Ethna however, had features he had never seen until he laid eyes on her. Her eyes, they were a calming mossy green, but they could burn like wildfire. Her hair was as black as a raven's feathers, yet her skin was akin to the moon’s glow, both darkness and light present together. She was a contradiction, she was gentle and kind, but fierce and courageous as well.  Ethna was his and his alone. She was not some common whore, like Margrethe.

Ubbe nodded to his wife and turned to his brother.  
“Just be careful with her Ivar, it might take some time for her to become comfortable, she’s scared…”

“Do you think I am blind, brother?” He snarled and tugged Ethna's rope harshly bringing her down towards him. Spite drove him as he unsheathed his knife. Margrethe's eyes nearly fell out of her head and Ubbe called his name in warning and took a step forward. Ethna stiffened and looked from him to the blade, and then back at him, staring into his soul, daring him to use it. With the flick of his wrist, her rope fell from her neck. He took her wrists in his hands and then proceeded to saw through the bonds.

“You know you’re quite dramatic…” Hvitserk trailed off as unwelcome faces approached them.

“Welcome home princes,” Lagertha greeted, “I take it your raid was successful?”

“What mental affliction must you have if you believe it is okay to talk to us as if we were old friends?” Ivar spat. Ubbe waltzed forward resting a hand on Ivar’s shoulder and smiled insincerely at her. Ivar continued to glare daggers at her and Astrid.

“Our raid was successful, Eire is bountiful in riches, Ivar plans to return next summer,” he explained. “I personally believe England is my calling, but I will admit Eire is beautiful.”

“And who is this?” Astrid looked Ethna up and down.

“She is Ivar’s souvenir, Effna,” Hvitserk smiled, “She is a Gael.” Lagertha nodded thoughtfully and Ivar curled his lip up.

“She is to be my personal slave,” Ivar snarled.

Lagertha gave a curt nod,“I hope to see you all at the feast tonight,” she farewelled.

“I shall wait in anticipation to hear your stories, until tonight then my princes,” Astrid added. If Ubbe was not standing in the way he would have thrown an axe at her retreating form.    

* * *

 

It was not that far to their house, but with all their loot, horses would save them multiple trips from the docks to the outskirts. Three thralls came bringing their horses and his chariot. A horse whinnied and Ethna shrieked and stumbled backwards landing on the ground next to Ivar. His brothers laughed.  
“What’s wrong?” He asked her. She regained her composure and dusted herself off and stood, still keeping a suspicious eye on the beasts.

She pointed at the horse, “New... big... scare,” she struggled to explain in his language that she had never seen a horse this close before.

“So the brave little thrall is afraid of horses, who would’ve guessed?” Hvitserk chuckled as the brothers filled their saddlebags with their loot.

“Don't worry Effna, they won't bite,” Ubbe chuckled, “Much.”

While Ivar loaded his chariot, he found the small sack belonging to Ethna. It was heavier than he remembered. Frowning he reached in and pulled out the unfamiliar book.

“What is this?” He asked her

“I don’t understand,” she replied with a phrase he taught her. He sighed, translated and asked her again.

 **“A book.”** She answered. He scowled at her.

“I know it’s a book! Why do you have it?” He asked in annoyance.

“I don’t understand,” she retorted smugly. ‘I don’t understand’ was fast becoming her favourite phrase. His nostrils flared.

“It was mine, brother,” Ubbe stepped in.

“Then why does my thrall have it?”  
“Because I gave it to her, it's a book about healing, she said she was a healer’s apprentice, I thought perhaps it might be useful,” Ubbe shrugged. Ivar raised an eyebrow. When did Ubbe talk to her? It must have been during the raid on Waterford.

“So she can read?” Ivar wondered out loud as he stuffed the book back into the sack. He knew women in England didn’t read, most peasants didn’t read either. He wondered if in Eire things were different or if Ethna was unique in yet another way. He passed the sack to Ethna, “This belongs to you,” he stated and climbed into his chariot.

“Tak,” she murmured in a small voice and took the sack gingerly.

He motioned for her to sit on the back of his chariot. She cautiously shuffled towards the contraption and hesitated.

“Or would you rather ride?” He teased and gestured to his brothers mounting their horses. She shook her head and climbed in the chariot. Once she sat behind him, he flicked the reins and they lurched forward and Ethna gripped the side of the chariot tightly to steady herself. Once she was comfortable she drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. If he had it his way they would be living in the great hall, his home, but no, fate had it so that that snake of a woman had claimed his rightful throne.

* * *

 

He refused brother's request. He didn’t care if he ‘dis-honored Lagertha’. As far as he was concerned, the imposter queen deserved no honour. Besides, he had more important things to do than attend a rowdy feast.  

“So, Ivar, where’s Ethna going to sleep tonight?” Hvitserk smugly asked.

“With me of course,” he answered seriously. Ivar smirked at the utter shock on Hvitserk’s face and the surprise on Ubbe’s. “What? Did you think I would let her sleep with you?” He chuckled.

“But you...” Hvitserk began but quickly shut his mouth as Ivar glared at him before smiling slyly.

“Margrethe has assured me there are other ways to satisfy a woman,” he threw a curt glance in Margrethe’s direction. “Besides, she will try to run again, I know it. If she sleeps in my bed I can keep an eye on her.”

“Well enjoy your ‘quiet night in’ then, brother,” Hvitserk grinned before taking Margrethe’s arm and walking off.

“Ivar,” Ubbe began hesitantly, “Just try to be… understanding, don’t force her, I don’t believe that you wish to harm her...”

“Go and have ‘fun’ Ubbe, and take your time at the imposter’s feast, what I do with my thrall is none of your business!” He snarled and slammed the door.

He was finally alone with Ethna. There would be no prying eyes or interruptions tonight. He wanted to ignore Ubbe. He wanted to pull Ethna down onto the ground and finally know what was under that grey dress. Make her forget that Fabian she seemed so fond of, see her pale flesh pressed against his. He looked up at Ethna who was sitting next to the hearth, watching bread rise, with a distant look on her face. He didn’t remember asking her to make dinner, but perhaps one of his brothers had told her to.

“Dinner,” she announced dejectedly and lifted the tray from the fire carefully.

* * *

 

“You make good bread. Margrethe will be pleased that she now has someone to help her,” he smiled into his cup and looked across the table at Ethna who was nibbling a slab of bread, savouring it as if she believed it would be her last. He felt a twinge in his chest, but he pushed it aside.

“Are you afraid Ethna?” he asked, curious to hear her answer. She looked up at him frowning.

“Af-raid?”

“Scared,” he tried. She gave a deep inhale and nodded slowly.

“Yes, I scared, I afraid,” she admitted.  

“Why?” She looked up at him with a pained expression and opened and closed her mouth.

“ **People say stories, I listen about...** woman thrall... men...pain...death... ” she tried quietly in both languages. He tried to make sense of her words. Was she trying to list the things she was afraid of or was she trying to tell him something else? She continued, “Mitserk… scare, Helfrim scare, Ivar...scare,” she whispered and glanced down quickly. It was not off to a good start. He knew very well that she would not want to sleep with him, let alone share a bed. However, she did not have a choice. He didn’t care what she thought, he convinced himself, she was just a slave.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be dark. Sorry :/ But happy times will come (in the distant future) and in two chapters time we'll get some new characters, I think you're gonna love them (I hope you like them :/)
> 
> Lately, I have also been posting extra bits and bobs from this story on my Tumblr. So if you want to know about Ethna's mother and the sibling's relationship you can check it out and search my Tumblr with the tag #burntmythroatskullingmytea's extras or if you want to ask a question feel free to drop one in my ask box 
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co


	14. Nearer to Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethna's first night in Kattegat proves that there is such a place as hell on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big warnings for this chapter, it's pretty dark. This chapter took forever and was very difficult to write, it has so much angst... but I hope you guys like it. and heads up... Ivar makes another stupid decision.
> 
> Warnings (pretty heavy this time): Slavery (duh), coarse language, sexual references, nonconsensual sexual acts, attempted Rape, self-loathing
> 
> This chapter has some Latin in it as Ethna says the Ave Maria, which until recent times was said in latin, so here is a translation of the prayer:  
> Hail Mary, full of grace.  
> Our Lord is with thee.  
> Blessed art thou among women,  
> and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,  
> Jesus.  
> Holy Mary, Mother of God,  
> pray for us sinners,  
> now and at the hour of our death.  
> Amen.  
> 

 

* * *

“Tonight, you will sleep with me, do you understand?” He told her with as much confidence as he could muster.

“I do not understand,” she bit her lip. He could see it in her eyes. Although she did not know what he said, she could take a good guess.

 **“Tonight, you will sleep with me,”** he said more firmly. She hung her head. He was surprised that she reacted so docilely, he had expected her to put up more of a fight. There was a bang on the table and he flinched out of his thoughts. She clenched her fists before glaring back up at him.

“No,” she stated. There it was, that fire. However, now, was not a good time for it.

“I didn’t give you a…”

“No!” She interrupted him. How was he going to do this? He began to regret cutting her bonds. Perhaps he could convince her that he really meant sleep instead of _sleep._ It would get her into bed at least. Then he could touch her, please her. She would see that she enjoyed his touches, she would want more. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was a good start.

“Ethna…” he began, “ **You misunderstood me, I want you to sleep next to me, so you do not run away, understand?”**

“Sleep?” she mimed and brought her hands up to her head and used them as a pillow. “No ... ” she trailed off awkwardly.  

 **“** Yes sleep **,”** he tried to keep a placid face. She narrowed her eyes, still suspicious about his intentions.

“I no sleep,” Ethna shook her head adamantly. He glared at her. He had to give her an ultimatum, a choice to make her believe she had some control. He needed something that frightened her. He smirked.

“You have to sleep somewhere. Would you like to sleep with my brother, Hvitserk?”

She didn't understand every word but she understood the most important one; Hvitserk. Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

“I sleep…” She pointed to the ground.  She had no say in this.

He shook his head, “No,” He got down from his chair and crawled over to his room behind the kitchen wall and he gestured for her to follow. She continued to stand next to the table. “Come here,” he gestured again, “Ethna!” She shook her head, “Fine, I will let Hvitserk have you then,” he bluffed.

“No!” She protested. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and bit her lip and hesitantly made her way over to his room.

He lifted himself onto the bed and removed his jacket and belt and began to undo his bracers.

“ **Do you want help?** “ Ethna asked pointing to his leg bindings and boots. He was surprised by her offer but he shook his head, he didn’t need her pity. She sighed and stood off to the side wringing her hands together. She looked around the room to see a vacant bed gathering dust. He too took a moment to glance at it.

“I sleep…”

“No!” He snapped. She flinched. He sighed and shook his head, “No one sleeps there, not anymore,” he reminisced mournfully. Focus, he told himself before he continued to prepare himself for bed.

Once he had finished he slid across the bed and motioned her to join him. She undid her own shoes and her belt and placed them neatly on the floor then, stepped slowly towards the bed, then stopped.

“ **Sleep, yes or no**?” She asked warily again.

“Sleep,” he growled impatiently. She took a deep breath and continued towards the bed. She was taking her sweet time.

Huffing, he sprung forward and yanked her onto the bed. She let out a yelp and landed next to him. Wasting no time he, wrapped his arms around her chest and pulled her flush up against him, pinning her arms to her sides.

She began struggling immediately, cursing in her language, _“You bastard I trusted you!”_ She continued to thrash and her curses started to turn to pleas, _“Please don’t... I trusted you, why did I trust you?”_

“Hey, hey, hey shhh…” He tried to hold her still and allow her to calm down. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured. She just needs to get used to it, he reassured himself. She would melt to his touch, moan under him and give herself to him. He felt himself shiver in anticipation. He needed his arms free, he thought and he rolled them over so he lay on top of her pinning her under him. “It’s okay…” He began but was interrupted when she let out a screech and tried to head butt him. He quickly dodged and used one hand on her chin to force her head back down. This was becoming irritating, but he expected nothing less from his Gael. “Stop it, just let me touch you, you'll like it,” he promised her.

“ _God, keep me pure, I have been a fool, this is my fault, but please, help me!”_ She breathed raggedly. He needed to calm her down. Show her that he didn’t want to hurt her, that he could pleasure her. He needed to do something before she became too hysterical. He had seen his brothers stroke and caress women on their stomach, breast and thighs before they touched their Maidenhoods. He had also seen them kiss women on their neck as well as whisper in their ears. He supposed it was worth a try.  

 _“Ave maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora…” S_ he frantically chanted something. Carefully, he bent his head down beside hers, **“It’s okay, Ethna, I won’t hurt you,”** he whispered into her ear and pressed a kiss under her ear. She froze. She stopped wiggling. He smirked against her warm skin. She liked that, he thought to himself. He had liked it too. His confidence was boosted. He nuzzled against her soft skin and pressed another kiss to her neck. Her pleasant scent wafted around him as he buried his nose into her neck. He felt the need to explore every inch of her. He pressed himself against her and ran his hands down her arm and along the curve of her waist. He sighed at the feeling of her under his fingers but he craved more. He wanted to meld together. He grabbed a fist full of her dress and began to pull it up.

She shivered and let out a strangled sob, “No.” He glanced up to see tears leaking from her eyes as she shook. Her legs kicked out and she tried to knee him, but it only further settled him between her legs. She was fighting back like he expected her to. He liked it, it showed that she was not weak like that shieldmaiden in her final moments. However, when she fought now there was none of that green fire in her eyes, just fear, panic and desperation. This was not the same Ethna he had met that night in the woods all those weeks ago. He scowled. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was enjoying this a moment ago. He kissed her neck again urgently and trailed his mouth over her pulse and down to her collarbone while he dragged his hand up her thigh, hiking her dress up. “No **,** ” she cried again. He needed to prove her wrong, prove everyone wrong, he could do this. He cupped her fleshy breasts through her dress and continued to taste her neck. She sobbed and squirmed. He didn’t want to stop, but seeing her like this began to shake his resolve. He moved one hand down to feel himself and he began to panic. He wasn’t getting hard like he should be. What was he doing wrong? She should have given in by now. He grunted in frustration and wound his hands around her neck to hold her in place while he ground his hips into hers in a last ditch effort.

She wailed and rattled under him. No no no no, it was all falling apart. This wasn't supposed to happen. She should have caved in by now and be enjoying this. She began to push at his chest and claw at his ribs. “Ivar **stop!** ” She wheezed. He froze upon hearing his name. This was just like Margrethe all over again.

“Why!?” He cried as his face contorted in rage, “Why should I?!”  
“ **I do not love you and you do not love me,”** she sobbed.  He retracted his fingers from her throat. Love? What did this have to do with love? This was not love and he knew it, it was desire and dominance. Sex did not have to be about love, it could be about pleasure or passion, but she did not seem to know this.

How come his brothers bed any woman they wanted and he couldn’t even get his own slave to accept his touches? Ethna had probably warmed Fabian’s bed and let him please her just because she ‘loved’ him, why was he any different? Why didn’t she ‘love’ him? Why did he have to be different? His own mind answered him. His legs didn’t work, his prick didn’t work and he was cruel and undesirable, there were thousands of men more suitable than him. He was a fool to think that he could even have a chance, that he could even try with Ethna. No woman would ever want him, let alone the woman he had taken from her home, her family and enslaved, a woman who hated him.

She whimpered, he stared at her teary eyes and her pitiful expression of betrayal. It was so unfair, why did the gods torment him by making her so alluring? Rage and self-loathing bubbled up inside him he roared at the heavens and rolled off her. He wanted her gone, he wished he had never met her. He didn’t want to see her beautiful face.

“Get out,” he snarled at her. She stopped sniffling and looked at him, confusion mixing with her tears.

“I don’t unders…”

“GET OUT!!!” He screamed at her. She scrambled out of bed and snatched up her shoes and belt. He picked up the closest thing he could grab and hurled it at her. A bronze goblet flew past her as she scampered out of the room.

He clenched the bed sheets under him and heaved ragged breaths and hot angry tears threatened to spill down his cheeks but he held them at bay. Why was everything so hard? Why did the gods torment him? He had done nothing but serve and please them, was he cursed? How could he feel like he wanted to take Ethna in every way possible, not caring if she enjoyed it or not, or if he could physically do it, yet, still wish for her to choose him? Why did he feel pain in his chest for her vacant expression and for her sadness? Why did he care what his slave thought? Why did he regret every time he hurt her?

 

Ubbe was right, he realised, he didn’t want to harm her, he wanted to protect her. He wanted her to kiss him, to make love to him, to smile at him, to sit on his lap and whisper how he made her feel, all of her own free will. Every thought within him conflicted with another. He didn’t know what he really wanted and he hated it. Somehow Ethna had wormed her way into his mind and his heart, she had some kind of control over him, and he hated her for it, but at the same time, it made him want her more. He let out another frustrated grunt and slammed his fist down on the bed. His fit of rage was interrupted when he heard the door open and shut. He groaned. Not again. He didn't even have to crawl out into the main living area to know what just happened. He knew Ethna had made another run for it.

* * *

 

 

Ethna didn’t think, she just ran. Her mind screamed everything at once as her legs carried her as fast as possible away from the house. She didn’t know where she was going, she just knew she had to get out. The buildings around her were unfamiliar, yet familiar as they all looked the same. She breathed heavily and halted, leaning against a wall. She heaved a few more breaths before the tears began to flow again. Her shoulders shook and she clutched the wall to steady herself. Ivar had just tried to rape her on her first night in this new land. If this was the first night of her life in Cattigat, what was the rest of her life going to be like? Ivar had said something about Mitserk. Did he wish to share her with his brother, like Ubae shared Margrethe?

Perhaps, it won't happen again, she tried to comfort herself. He had failed, given up, and she didn’t understand why he did.  It must have been the work of God, he had heard her prayers through either herself or the blessed virgin Mary. She thanked him for whatever intervention he made, but the whole ordeal had left her confused. Why had he stopped? Did he realise she did not want to make love with him? Did he care about her feelings? No, she shut the thought out immediately. He had no capacity to care about anyone but himself. He must have stopped because things weren’t going his way, stopped because she didn’t meet his sick expectations. Whatever the cause of his lack of confidence, she prayed that it would deter him for a while.

An uncomfortable feeling crawled under her skin. Whispering words in her ear like weakling, whore and fool. It told her that she was filthy, it told her that Fabian would never love her knowing what had almost happened. It was the same feeling she had after Ivar had licked her but it was magnified tenfold. She wrapped her arms around herself. These heathens were monsters, no demons, Fabian was right, they were of the devil. This place was hell. As soon as she stepped onto its shores she felt nearer to death. She would admit hell was colder and more beautiful than she expected, but it was the people who made the place what it was. She had to get out of here and the only way to get was the sea. A plan started to form in her mind, If she could find her ways back to the docks, she could find a boat or stowaway on a merchant ship. She just had to follow the sound of the ocean. She peeked around the corner looking behind her as she hastily started to jog straight into a solid wall of flesh.

She stumbled back as large hands wrapped around her wrists.

 _“What do we have here?”_ The man slurred something at her. He reeked of ale. Ethna forcefully tried to tug her wrists from him. She grunted as he flung her against the side of the wall. _“You don’t look like you're from around here, hmm… and the state of your clothes, you’re one of those Gaelic thralls aren't cha? Just what I needed.”_ She didn't understand his words but his actions were clear when he pinned her wrists above her head with one of his arms. She spat at him and tried to knee him in the groin but he wedged himself between her legs. She let out a scream and tried to head butt the drunk man. _“You’re quite new aren’t you?”_ He chuckled something. This was not happening, this couldn’t happen twice in one night. She cried out at God, Why would he allow her to escape one man and end up in another’s grasp. What sin had she committed to deserve this?

“Someone help me!” She let out another shriek as the man lifted her dress. This cannot be happening, she sniffled. This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening.

“Oi!” A gruff voice echoed behind her, the man turned his face from her.

 _“Me?”_ Her attacker asked, somewhat annoyed.  

 _“Yes you, ya drunken hairy bastard,”_ The accented voice continued, _“Are you usually this stupid or has the drink gone to yer head?”_ The drunk man snarled and took a step back from her but still held her wrists above her head.

_“Who are you calling stupid?”_

_“No one you deaf fart, I’m askin’ if you’re as thick as horse shit!_ ” The voice taunted.

 _“Why you...”_ The drunk man spat with spittle flying before he was interrupted by the voice again.

 

 _“Sorry, I just assumed anyone who’d touch Ivar Ragnarson’s property without permission either has a death wish or is just plain stupid.”_  The accented voice explained something. As soon as she heard him drop Ivar’s name in his sentence her attacker tensed. _“I thought I'd help you out, you know give you the benefit of the doubt, just in case you were thinking of doing something you’d regret.”_

_“She is just a thrall, nothing more than a foreign whore he wouldn't mind...”_

_“Are you sure about that?”_ the voice asked, _“Can you be certain? Are you willing to risk Ivar’s wrath? I may be a gambling man but I know when the risk isn’t worth the reward. Leave the lass be, go home and sleep it off.”_ The drunken man gave a huff and retracted his grip and stumbled off.  Ethna let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding and turned to face her God-sent saviour.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... How was that? Hopefully, not too squirmish. Anyway It's over, and I can leave this angsty dark cloud I'm in. Also Ivar you dun goofed, Ethna's gonna kill you now (not really, but she can dream)
> 
> Also, enter new character... Yay! You're gonna love him (I hope you like him)
> 
> Lately, I have also been posting extra bits and bobs from this story on my Tumblr. So if you want to know about Ethna's mother and the sibling's relationship you can check it out and search my Tumblr with the tag  
> #burntmythroatskullingmytea's extras or if you want to ask a question feel free to drop one in my ask box
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)
> 
> https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co


	15. The Caw of Crows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to meet some new characters in this chapter and also see have a quick peek at what team Mac Cruitin is up to and things actually go well for Ethna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, talk of death, depression. 
> 
> This chapter has a bit of Irish culture and mentions to some Irish Goddesses which I will have little explanations for at the end.

* * *

He glared into the flames. He felt akin to them Raging and burning. The others stared too. Most with grief, some with anger, some with regret. He felt all three surge within him. He knew as soon as he saw Maeve, Connor and Peigi clamber towards them without her, that he had lost a part of himself that he never knew he had. She had been right, it was unwise to split up. Eoin often thought perhaps his sister had some kind of clairvoyance, she always was right. Like that time he fell of out that tree, she had told him it was unsafe, that he’d fall and hurt himself and of course, she had been right. But just like then, he didn’t listen or believe her until he was in pain. He could definitely say now that the pain of losing her was far greater than any broken bone, arrow wound or burn, they all could heal with time. Losing his twin sister though, that, would never heal. Time would only make that wound fester and spread till it consumed him.

Why was God so selfish? He had taken mother, father and now Ethy. He had asked himself why? She was the kindest most gentle person he had ever known to exist. People told him when his mother passed that God took her to a better place and that she had ‘done her work’ on Earth or she was too good for this world. He couldn’t stand that rott anymore.  He had come to the conclusion that there was no God of Christians.  If God truly wanted a world where everyone loved each other and believed in him. Why would he take one of the best role models from it and leave the savages that slaughtered her? The reason, he concluded; he didn’t exist. Even if he did, he wouldn’t pray to him. This was war. What good was a supposed God of peace going to do in a time of war? Nothing. He had turned to the Goddess Morrigan over the past few days and asked for her counsel and she had answered him in the form of three crows alighting on the branch above him as he prayed. He knew now that ‘God’ had never taken Ethy, in fact, it had been Morrigan. She had taken his sister to drive him to fight in the inevitable war. To give him a purpose; to defend Eire. To spill the blood of the Danes in her name. He knew the gods could be cruel to mortals, but in the end, they saw the bigger picture.

He had vowed that Ethna’s death would not be in vain and he could only hope that when that bastard killed her, it was quick. He also prayed that Ethna made it to Cliodhna’s domain like she deserved. It pained him that they could not even return to bury her. It was unthinkable that someone like her, who had done nothing but show kindness and mercy, was left in the dirt in an unfamiliar place with only Coilean for company. He hated that they had to keep moving, light the beacon and continue to Waterford. It enraged him to find Waterford’s streets drenched in drying blood and ash. He felt the anguish of his people, left to burn their loved ones in numbers too numerous to bury. It sickened him to know that these Danes were still out there while all he could do was sit around a fire in silence. Everyone seemed too lifeless to decide what to do, or that was what he thought until Connor broke the thick silence.

“We can’t do this,” he murmured but in the silence, it might as well have been a battle cry. The boy had remained silent for days, a blank placid expression plastered to his face yet, his eyes suggested otherwise. He had been thinking.

“What can’t we do brother?”Brennan asked dejectedly.

“We can’t just sit here, doing nothing, moping around, it won’t bring her back,” he spat, “Nothing will bring her back, but you know who’ll come back? The heathens.” At this, Eoin raised his eyebrows. Connor remained in a contemplative stance, fist resting under his nose and his eyes steadily gazing into the flames. He had never seen Connor like this, completely serious, vengeful, yet completely calm, it irked him. The others looked at him with raised eyebrows.

The others looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“What?” Connor asked rhetorically, “Did you think that after a raid like that they’d just leave our practically unguarded riches alone? Ethna was right, they want more. It’s the beginning of Autumn now, then it’ll be Winter, but come next Summer when there’s no ice to protect us, they’ll be back and they’ll bring friends.” Eoin smiled at his brother knowingly, he could see where he was going with this. Perhaps Morrigan had stirred him too.

“You want us to fight?” Eoin smirked. Who could’ve guessed that the spineless one had more backbone than the rest of them?

“Yes, we can’t do anything to bring her back from death’s clutches, but we can make sure she’s avenged and that no others fall at those heathen’s hands,” Connor roused.

“Connor,” Fabian began tiredly, “We can’t fight an army with three men, a pregnant woman and a child…”

“We have four men,” he corrected, “Last time I checked I didn’t need legs to fire an arrow or hold a sword.”

“That’s not what he meant Connor,” Brennan interjected.

“I’m just saying, the chances of us having any consequence on their numbers are very slim,” Fabian sighed hopelessly. It seemed Ethna’s death had hit him the hardest. He had lost more than his best friend, he had lost his future and it broke him.

“What did she see in you bean boy? You've got the confidence of a sparrow and the brain of a sheep, I never said we should run blindly towards the enemy,” Connor hissed. Eoin sighed, Connor had not received the news of Fabian’s engagement to Ethna well, he didn’t really know why, but it was always hard to know what went on in that boy’s mind.

“You think we should join the king’s army?” Brennan concluded.

“Eventually,” Connor answered, “But we can’t rush in and miss the opportunity to maximise our chances of revenge, we need to take our time, if we join now we’ll just become the faceless servants of the king.”

“I assume you have a plan then?” Brennan asked.

“Well I can’t take all the credit, it was actually Coilean’s plan but I believe I’ve improved it,” Conner grinned.

“You want to gather an army?” Maeve questioned, holding Peigi tightly in her lap.

“Of sorts yes, we go to Chief O’Ruadhain’s allies and we tell them of the news, we spread fear of this Heathen army across the country and use it to our advantage,” Connor instructed as everyone looked at each other in confusion.

“Terrifying people won’t help us when we need bravery,” Maeve stated.

“Actually it will,” Connor corrected, “Fear is the breeding ground for brash action and brash action is just what we need, in the hysteria we’ll give the people hope, they’ll flock to our cause without thinking about what they’re doing or who they’re following, we’ll gain numbers and loyalty, and when we go to the king and offer our service and he shall see our numbers and he won’t be able to refuse, that way it wouldn’t matter if we’re put low in the ranks, we’d still have overwhelming support from the people, we’ll be kings under the king.”

“But we’re peasants, we have no claim to fame whatsoever,” Brennan contradicted.

“Maybe so,” Connor shrugged, “But no one knows that, there’s no one left to say who we really were,” he smirked.

Eoin beamed and ruffled Connor’s hair, “You’re a weasel.”

“You’ve really thought on this haven’t you?” Brennan rubbed his forehead.

“How are we going to travel around Eire, gain support and join the king's army in a year? Not to mention none of us can fight. None of us are warriors, this is only a way to get ourselves killed.” Fabian reasoned.

“Then you can happily join Ethna, I see no loss,” Connor scoffed. Eoin scowled, it seemed Brennan and Fabian had become complacent. He had to do something, to remind them what the Danes had done, Connor’s plan was too good to throw away.

“Do you think the Danes will care if you can fight or not?” He asked Fabian. He then turned to Brennan, “Do you think that they’ll care if Maeve can fight or not? Because they sure didn’t give a pig’s arse if Ethy could fight.” Everyone winced, he continued passionately, “I believe we’ve been allowed to survive for a reason,” he turned to face Connor and sent him a reassuring smile, “Can’t you hear Morrigan crying out for blood in every crow’s caw? We, my brothers, are Eire’s instruments of vengeance! And I for one will not sit idly by while the men who slaughtered our sister and the men who butchered our people sharpen their swords and laugh at us! So what if we have no consequence on their numbers, at least we tried to take some of them down with us! So tell me, are you with Connor and I or shall you truly live up to the name Spineless!”

“I'll fight them!” Peigi screamed enthusiastically brandishing a stick.

“Without me, you’ll end up killing yourselves,” Brennan rolled his eyes sarcastically before grinning deviously.

“I'll go where you go my love,” Maeve laced her fingers between Brennan's and nodded. Then Fabian slowly rose to his feet and looked at them with bitter sadness.

“The lord says there’s a time for everything, a season for everything under the sun: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace,” he quoted quietly, before he looked up at Eoin with determination burning in his eyes, “And I say, now is a time to war!”

* * *

 

 

The girl stood in shock before him. The poor creature, he thought. There was nothing he could do for her though, she was Ivar Ragnarson’s slave, not a common timber slave like himself.

“Tak,” she murmured quietly. “Tak!” She exclaimed again gratefully.

“Okay I get it, you’re thankful, now run on back to yer master’s house,” he sighed and began on his way back to The House. It wasn’t long before he heard his footsteps began to echo.

“Tak,” she yipped again. He groaned.

“Stop it, go on get!” He shooed, but the wee shite continued to shadow him. “I wasn’t helpin’ you ya wee shite, I was helpin’ poor Ulf, he’s actually a half decent fellow when he isn’t pissed drunk,” he explained.

“Tak, tak, tak,” she smiled.

“Is that’ll you can say?” She looked up at him and sincerely nodded.

“Tak.” Apparently yes.

He rubbed his forehead, “Look I know you don’t know much Norse but, Go. Back. To. Ivar. Okay?

“No!” She shrieked. So the wee shite knew more words than just ‘thank you’. She looked up at him with her doey green eyes, she could not speak Norse yet but he understood the look in her eyes clearly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warned and turned to walk away. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Seumas don’t you… too late. He turned around. The girl stood swaying hopelessly with the wind, with her thin arms hugging herself. He hung his head. He was going to regret this. _“Oh for cryin’ out loud!”_ He yelled in his own language. _“Fine, fine, fine,_ ” he gritted. That God his Ardney was so fond of must have been laughing at him now. He turned and beckoned the girl to follow, “Come with me, maybe Ardney’ll take pity on you wee shite.”

* * *

 

 

She followed her rescuer. He was a tall man. He had large, muscled arms that starkly contrasted the rest of his scrawny body. He also had a bushy, dirty-blonde beard to match his wild long hair. She would guess the man to be perhaps thirty years old, but she couldn’t be certain. She didn’t know where this man was leading her but oddly enough she felt safe. Everything about him seemed to say he could be trusted. His voice had a melodic accent that gave her a pleasant break from the harsh sounding words the Brothers spoke. He seemed friendly but it he also had a look about him that gave her a distinct sense that she didn’t want him as an enemy. If she was following anyone else she would be suspicious but after a night like tonight, she would cling to anyone who showed her that kindness still existed in this hell hole.

They stopped in front of a largish, simple looking house that buzzed with activity, even at this time of night. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. Inside was full of people of all shapes, sizes and colours. Ethna gawked. Washing hung from the rafters and a large hearth in the centre of the room had at least six women stooped over it. Taking inventory she guessed there had to be around 30 people at least. Some were sewing, others cooking. Some men were gathered around a small wooden game board playing something she didn’t recognise.  A younger boy sat blowing lazily into a reed pipe in the corner and a woman with skin the colour of the deepest Mahogany sat at a loom concentrating on a beautiful pattern.  A few people were rolling out goatskin furs on the wooden floorboards turning it into a patchwork of beds. Some heads turned in her direction curiously but then turned back to their work eventually. She then realised where she was; the slave house.

The man behind her called out cheerfully to an auburn haired woman who was rolling out furs. She looked up at him and beamed, walking briskly over to them and planting a kiss on the man's lips. She chattered to who Ethna now assumed was her lover. She didn’t understand everything but she caught the words Gael, thrall, scared and Ivar. They were talking about her. The woman turned to her and gently laid her hands on her shoulder. She stared deep into her eyes with her own deep brown orbs before she wrapped her arms around Ethna. At first, she stiffened in shock, but then she cautiously wrapped her arms around the woman. Ethna could remember the last time she had been hugged distinctly. It was when Fabian had saved her. She whimpered at the memory. That was possibly the last time she would ever hold him. She let a sob escape her mouth when she remembered the last time she saw him and realised she never said goodbye. She had never said goodbye to him or her brothers, instead she had treated them coldly. Would that be how they remembered her for the rest of their lives? Regret filled her. She might never see her family again. She felt all the emotions she had harboured for the past few weeks crash down on her all at once and her legs buckled under their weight. The woman didn’t mind. She just held her tighter and whispered soft words and stroked her hair comfortingly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt stupid for crying on a random stranger's shoulder but right now, it was just what she needed.

She managed to pry herself from the woman and wipe her tears from her face.

“ **Do you speak Saxon?”** The woman inquired as she took her hand and lead her to a part of the house that had a large tub.

 **“A little,”** she replied averting her eyes from a woman perched on the edge of the tub as she began to strip, dipping a cloth into the water to wash herself. The woman giggled at her reaction and gestured to herself.

 **“My name is Ardney and the man who found you is Seumas,”** she smiled back at Seumas and turned back to Ethna, **“What’s your name?”** Ethna shook her head slowly and hung her head. **“Oh, that’s okay you can tell me later then luv, let’s get you all cleaned up.”**

Ardney padded off and collected a few items of clothing, a rag and a pair of shears. Ethna cast a second glance at the shears. She knew what had to happen. Her long hair still symbolised the freedom she had now lost. Besides this, it was also too long for the work that she would undertake. That didn't stop her discomfort showing on her face. Her mother had always told her a woman's hair was her crown.

Ardney gave her a sympathetic look, **“I won’t take more off then I need to luv,”** she reassured. **“Hop in luv, we’ve all finished, although I am sure that some of the men haven’t bothered to even wipe themselves tonight,”** she shot and accusing glance towards Seumas. Ethna felt the corners of her mouth tug up. She swivelled nervously at the others in the house as her hands clutched her dress. There were men in here. No one was supposed to see her naked till her wedding night. **“Don’t worry luv, we’ve seen it all before, no one will be looking…”** Ardney stopped frowned at someone over Ethna's shoulder.

“Esegar! Face the wall ya Pìos cac gòrach!” Seumas yelled from somewhere in the house. Ethna turned to see the boy who had been playing the pipe turn red and spin towards the wall at the scolding.

Ethna sat in the tub hugging her legs and fumbling with the washcloth. The water was warm and soothing. It made her feel…clean again, as if it washed away more than just the physical dirt and grime on her skin. She had her back pressed up against the side and her head leant back so Ardney could cut her hair from the side of the tub.  Ethna tried to distract herself from the fact that her hair was now sitting just below her shoulders by retreating into her mind. She couldn’t afford to do this. She couldn’t rely on the kindness and intervention of others, there would come a time when she would be alone and God’s graces would run out. As much as she appreciated Seumas an Ardney’s generosity, it did nothing but show her how truly helpless she was. She clenched and unclenched her fists. She didn’t want to be pitied, pity did nothing. What she needed was to learn to defend herself, none of this would have ever happened if she could fight. She wouldn’t feel the way she did now if she could’ve stopped him or slit his throat when she had the chance. Like it or not, she told herself that this was her life now. She couldn't do anything to change her past, she could only worry about her future. She turned to Ardney over her shoulder. Despite her circumstances, the older woman seemed content with her life. Ethna studied her wondering how it was possible to have nothing but still be willing to share and smile.

 **“How are you happy? You are slave, how you smile?”** Ethna asked curiously.

 **“I have found comfort in others, for it is in the shelter of each other that people live. I have many friends to share my troubles and I have Seumas to share my heart,”** she conversed and tugged Ethna’s hair into a braid.

**“Seumas your husband?”**

**“I wish,”** she sighed, **“Slaves can not be married until they are freedmen.”** Ethna felt a pang of sadness for them. **“It doesn’t matter,”** Ardney continued, **“Our actions speak louder than our vows ever will.”** Ardney looked distant for a second then turned back to her, **“Did you have a husband?”**

 **“No, but I engaged,”** she reminisced.  Ardney seemed to not know what to say to comfort her. She offered her a towel as she stepped out of the tub.

**“Try these on, I’m afraid it’s all we have, but I will get you clothes washed and mended  for you as soon as possible.”**

After Ardney helped her struggle into the foreign garments, she lead her over to a patch of furs and told her to try and get some sleep. Ethna trudged over to the bedrolls and sat down looking at her oversized light green dress and brown apron. It was different to what she was used to but she guessed it was better than being naked. She rolled over to see Ardney settling down next to her. Words could not even begin to describe the gratitude Ethna wanted to express to her.

“Tak,” she began, **“You are very kind, thank you very much.”**

 **“You’re welcome luv,”** she smiled. After all the help Ardney had given her the least Ethna could offer was her name.

 **“Ethna,”** she stated, **“My name is Ethna.”** Ardney gave her a warm smile.

 **“It's good to meet you Ethna,  I pray you sleep in peace,”** Ardney whispered. Unfortunately, Ardney's prayer must have fallen on deaf ears.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> [here](https://burntmythroatskullinmgmytea.tumblr.co)  
> look at me I learnt to use links:) YAY! so here is some stuff to show off my new skill, (or if you want to check out more about Irish Mythology)  
> [Morrigan:](http://bardmythologies.com/morrigan/) Morrigán means “phantom queen” and the Morrigán in Irish Mythology was a deity who could change shape and would influence the outcome of battles by playing with armies psychologically. she is the considered the goddess of battle, strife, fertility and the darker side of nature. She sometimes appears in the form of a crow, flying above the warriors.
> 
> [Cliodhna:](http://bardmythologies.com/cliodhna/)Cliodhna was a Munster goddess. She presided over the Celtic Otherworld, which was a happy place for feasting and hunting, without death or ageing. It was also a place of beauty, and Cliodhna herself is supposed to have been extremely beautiful. She is associated with light and happiness. however, there is a colder edge to her character and she is often depicted as stealing or causing the death of mortals, not necessarily from malice, but more out of cold disregard for insignificant mortal life.
> 
> Connor's remark to Fabian: "what did she see in you bean boy?" this is a jab at the meaning of fabian's name which is: grower of beans  
> Seumas: "...you Pìos cac gòrach!" sottish Gaelic for; you stupid piece of shit
> 
> if you want to read about god and goddess from Irish mythology as well as the mythological Irish Cycles I cannot recommend this website highly enough  
> <http://bardmythologies.com/>


	16. The Tearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethna can't be happy for too long. In this chapter, we see the return of The Woman and the visions, While Ivar reflects on last night's events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, talk of death, blood, graphic battle aftermath, death, birds eating people alive, depression, sexual references.  
> Some more important notes at the end.

* * *

The ground was slick with blood. Ethna stifled a scream as her legs shakily moved on their own trying to flee. All around her bodies lay haphazardly, hacked and unidentifiable. She took a step backwards and tumbled over one of the fallen, landing in the red filth, coating her dress and face. It was everywhere. It was in her hair, on her arms, filling her nostrils and vision. She crawled into a sitting position and scrubbed at herself in disgust. A horrible shrieking above her filled her ears. In the sky two birds fought, one a raven the other an eagle. They were tearing at each other's wings swooping and diving at each other. The birds screamed again she looked up to see them diving towards her talons outstretched. She scrambled up and began to wade through the bodies, but it was no use, the birds were faster.

Burning pain flared up in her back as the talons dug into her like hot knives. She hit the ground between two bodies and the birds continued to rip at her back, tearing her flesh and devouring it. She screamed in agony and tried to crawl away. She focused on putting one hand in front of the other. This isn’t real she told herself, but the birds still shredded her back, and she kept crawling until a cold, pale hand grappled her wrist. The birds stopped shrieking and she froze and lifted her head to the side. A pale, bloody familiar face peered back at her in desperation. Brennan. She let out a strangled cry when she saw the three arrows embedded in his back. She recoiled and scrambled backwards into another body that wrapped it’s arms around her torso, she struggled and turned to see Eoin with an axe lodged in the top of his skull looking at her pleadingly.

She screamed and writhed to get out of his grip. In front of her, Brennan clawed his way towards her. In the distance she saw Fabian appear from nowhere, staggering across the battlefield carrying his own head. Tears began to flow now as the bodies around her sprung to ghoulish life. Sluggishly clawing their way towards her, guts leaking and bones protruding from them at strange angles. Her breathing became raspy and she shook. Hands and limbs brushed against her, making her shiver and shriek.

This is just a dream, this is just a dream, she repeated like a mantra.

“This is not a dream Ethna, it’s your future.” The formless feminine voice echoed around her, taunting her. It was The Woman, the one from her previous vision.

“Help me! I don’t know what to do! What are you showing me?” She screamed searching for her, “Show yourself!” A hand grabbed her shoulder firmly.  She turned to see a boyish freckled face, splattered with crimson, a long sword impaled through his spine and peeking out of his stomach.

“Save us,” Connor pleaded, “Ethna, only you can stop this! Ethna come back! Ethna Don’t leave us! Ethna! Ethna!...”

* * *

 

“Ethna! Wake up luv!”Ardney lightly slapped the girl’s cheek as Seumas held her tightly to stop her flailing. Her eyes rolled back to their normal position focusing on all the pairs eyes staring at her. She relaxed her tense muscles and she heaved heavy ragged breaths. In a panic she felt her back frantically, as if she were expecting it to be missing. Ardney thanked the Lord and quickly did the sign of the cross. She had never seen someone have a nightmare like that. When the girl had started screaming everyone woke up and tried to rouse her. She had opened her eyes but they were white and rolled back into her head. She knew it was common for new slaves to have nightmares but she had never seen this before.

“She’s possessed!” Someone commented.

“She’s a witch!” Another accused.

“No,” a quiet voice uttered, “She’s not a witch, nor is she possessed,” the voice argued a bit louder. Everyone turned to see Ruth, her dark skin glistening in the slight light. “I’ve seen this before, it’s just a night terror, sometimes they can have such a grip on their victim they can't move afterwards for a while, it is natural,” she assured them before returning to her pattern on the loom. Ardney frowned. Ruth hardly spoke to anyone, she kept to herself, no one knew much about her except that she was sold from Byzantium, no one even knew if Ruth was her real name. It puzzled her why Ruth would go out of her way to defend Ethna when she usually said nothing to anyone. She drew her attention back to Ethna as she tried to sit up.

“Well, for a wee shite you gave us a hell of a fright lass,” Seumas commented before turning to the other slaves, “Alright, show’s over, getta move on, daylight's burnin’,” he shooed the others and turned back to Ethna, “You think yer an exception wee shite? Come on, you slept in you’ve got…” he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes found a figure lurking in the doorway. Ardney turned to spy Runi leering in the doorway with a wicked grin on her face.

“Well this is interesting, I wonder if Ivar knows his bitch is missing?”

“Good morning Runi, how are you…”

“Shut it whore,” Runi snapped. Ethna’s head swung between them scowling, sensing the tension in the air.

“Like you’re any better,” Seumas snarled.

“You forget I’m a fostre and you forget your place _woodcutter_ , better get a move on, I’d hate to think what would happen if you don’t meet today’s quota,” she smiled sickly. Seumas bristled before stalking out of the house murmuring in his own language.

“How’s Gylfi? Does he still ride you while his wife's back is turned?” Runi sneered as Ardney winced. Runi tutted, “Better get a move on, almost first light and you haven’t even started on breakfast, the master’s not going to be happy,” she warned, Ardney clenched her jaw and before taking a deep breath and turning to Ethna.

“ **I will see you soon luv, if you need anything, come find me,”** she gave a reassuring smile before retreating out the door. Ardney turned once more to wave goodbye to Ethna and frowned when she saw Runi looming over her.

“Get up bitch!” She tugged Ethna up roughly and stalked towards the door, “Helfrim’s going to be real pleased to see you.”

Ardney felt a pang of sympathy for the poor girl as she shot Ardney a small smile as she was dragged out of the house, “Tak Ardney.”

* * *

 

“Don't worry brother, she can't have gone far,” Ubbe consoled him. His brother only glared at him.

“I don’t care for where my stupid thrall has gone, she can rot in a ditch for all I care,” he spat in reply. Ubbe knew not a word of that sentence was sincere. He could see that Ivar was in one of his aggressive and agitated moods, that meant two things; he was hurting and he didn't want to show it.  Ivar’s eyes burned into the table, past the breakfast Margrethe had prepared.

“Why’d she run away?” Margrethe asked boldly. Ubbe winced. Ivar slammed his fists on the table making Margrethe jump and Hvitserk look up from his breakfast.

“What makes you think she needed a reason to?” He snarled. Ubbe frowned, immediately seeing his brothers defensiveness, he deduced Ivar had done something foolish and he didn't want to admit it.

“Ivar what did you do?” Ubbe asked cautiously.

“I did nothing,” Ivar hissed, “Besides, what I do with my thrall is none of your business.” Ubbe creased his brow. Ivar roundabout admitted he had done something. He groaned. This was not good. Not good for his plan, certainly not good for Ethna and definitely not good for his brother.

“I’d like to hear about this business, don't spare the details brother, how does she ride?” Hvitserk chimed in seemingly oblivious to the tension. Ubbe kicked his shin under the table in warning. Ivar scowled and took a swig of his drink before setting his cup down with a thud.

“She rides well, but I guess you'll never know more than that because you'll never even get to touch her,” he sneered before he slid off his seat and crawled off to his room.

Hvitserk snorted and shook his head, “She probably ran away the moment he took his breeches off.” Ubbe shot him a disappointed look. “What? You don't honestly believe he humped her do you?”

“I don’t know, but whatever happened it frightened her,” he sighed.

“He must have forced her,” Margrethe added quietly, “He is crazy, what he did to me would scare any woman.”

“I don’t think he would even have to go that far to scare her, he’s done it before, with the knife…” Hvitserk began, but Ubbe cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter what happened, what matters is that she is lost, it’s not safe for her to be walking around these streets,” he told them, “We need to find her.”

Hvitserk smiled a mischievous smile, “First one to find her gets in Ivar’s good graces,” He sung before taking off out the door. Ubbe shook his head and Margrethe took his arm.

“I will ask around and see if anyone has seen her,” Margrethe whispered before leaving. Ubbe made towards the door but at the last moment he sighed and shut the front door. He strode across the house and knocked on his brother's door.

* * *

 

He listened to them as they murmured things they thought he couldn’t hear. Almost all of it was true. He just wanted to forget the whole thing. Forget her. But he didn’t think he could. Her face was seared into his brain. Every time he shut his eyes he saw her tears, her look of hurt, confusion and most of all, fear. Part of him ignited at the thought of her fearing him. Having so much power over her that his very touch could make her shiver. All his life he wanted people to fear him, but the throbbing in his head came from the fact that he wished she was an exception. Now after he thrown away all his chances, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to be loved. Not just by anyone, he wanted her to love him. He wanted to be gazed on like she gazed at Fabian, he wanted her to lay next to him and run her fingers through his hair like she did for her brother, he wanted her to be as fierce in her loyalty to him as she was to her family. He wanted more than just her body at his side. Her intelligence and demeanour had equally captivated him. But he was impulsive, impatient and reckless and his chances, however small they had been, had blown away in the wind. She would never forgive him now and she would never forget.

 He was a fool to not realise what he wanted from her earlier. For the second time in his life, he had felt that terrible presence of regret. Most people described it as a feeling that gnawed at a man. It was true, but what they didn’t tell you was the fact that it gnawed only when there was nothing left. Till then it tore and ripped at him. He only knew of one remedy; distraction, and revenge was a perfect distraction.

A knock on his door interrupted him.

“Ivar,” Ubbe sighed, “May I come in?” He gave a grunt in reply and Ubbe entered the room. He sat on Sigurd’s old bed and looked at him with a sickening level of concern, “What’s wrong?”

“A lot is wrong Ubbe, an imposter sits upon our mother’s throne and Lives in our home,” he seethed.

“That is not what I meant and you know it,” Ubbe huffed. He tensed and held tighter to the thought of spilling Lagertha’s blood.  

“Now is the time to act, Bjorn is away in the Mediterranean, we have the men’s support with our new riches. We have enough men to overthrow her, we could even use the brother’s to our advantage...”

“Ivar, what happened?” Ubbe interrupted harsher this time. It was none of his business. Ethna was his to do with as he pleased.

“I have told you before and I shall tell you again to get it through your dense skull, she ran away while I slept. Nothing. Happened.” He gritted.

Ubbe just shook his head with disappointment, “Then why did you say she rides well?” Ivar glared at him. He hated it when he got caught in his own lie. Ubbe raised an eyebrow.  

He didn’t know why Ubbe pretended to care or why he wanted to stick his nose in his business.  He didn’t know how Ubbe not only managed to make him feel defensive but also made him feel as if he had done something wrong. It made him feel obligated to apologise for nothing. She was a thrall, he owed her nothing, or so he told himself.  

Ubbe let out a sigh, “I want to help you Ivar, however, I can’t help if I don’t know what is wrong.” He stood and trudged towards the door. “I'm going to look for Ethna, Hvitserk is already out looking and Margrethe is asking around, we will find her brother,” he assured as he left Ivar in his room to fester in frustration and regret.  

* * *

 

For a good part of an hour he sat in a contemplative position. Now really was the time to make a move.  Everything he said to Ubbe had been true. With Bjorn away, he could make a move and worry about the repercussions later. Though Lagertha wasn’t stupid, she would have accounted for her son’s absence. He could work with Harald and Halfdan, they would easily help him if they believed that all he wanted was that woman’s head.  Harald was still on his quest to conquer all of Norway. If Ivar seemingly offered the throne of Kattegat to him he would take it, doing his bit by lending him extra men to overthrow Lagertha's forces. After Lagertha was out of the way he would then have to deal with the brothers. This was no new thought, he knew from the moment he heard that Harald had used Egil to attack Kattegat in their absence that he would eventually have to cut ties with them, literally.

There was a pounding at the front door. He raised his head. A visitor? It had to be, if it were his brothers they would have just burst through the door. He frowned and slid off the bed and slithered out into the main room. The knocking sounded again.

“Who is it?” He inquired pulling himself up on a chair.

“It’s Helfrim, my prince,” she called, “I believe I have found something that belongs to you.”

“Come in,” he grunted.

The door swung open and Helfrim waltzed in dragging Ethna behind her. Ethna hung her head and stared distantly at the floor.

“I found her in the eastern slave quarters, it seems someone dropped her off there,” Helfrim reported giving Ethna a half-hearted shove forward. He immediately noticed her changed attire. She now wore a green dress with an apron over the top, dressing how the women of his land dressed, however, she still kept her belt. She had been taken care of, and for that he was glad but something inside him nagged that he could have done that, he could have given her clothes, looked after her better, then perhaps she wouldn’t hate him.

With a dark glint in her eye Helfrim interrupted his thought, “I can make arrangements to have her flogged for running, if you wish, or perhaps branded....”

“No.” He interrupted her,”That’s not necessary, she is my thrall, I shall deal with her,” he sighed throwing another glance at Ethna to see her still staring at the floor wringing her hands.

“As you wish,” Helfrim nodded, “If you need anything my prince, I am always at your service, now if there is nothing more I best be on my way,” she farewelled quickly and abruptly turned on her heel to walk out.

“Wait,” he called after the shieldmaiden, he had an idea.

She spun around like a hurricane, “Yes?”

“How many warriors among us do you think would follow me into battle?” he asked curiously.

She furrowed her brow, “At least seventy that I know of perhaps a hundred and seventy if you offered them gifts, I know of some of my relatives in the east that would gladly fight for a son of Ragnar, I‘ve heard they have a substantial army,” she offered.  He hummed, it wouldn’t be enough, but it was a good enough starting point. Helfrim had been most loyal to him ever since he had left for England, but how far would that loyalty extend?

“What if I told you I planned to take back Kattegat? Would you still support me? Would you betray your queen?” He tested.

Helfrim nearly snarled, “Lagertha is not my Queen, her and her bitches killed my brother when they attacked Kattegat. If you plan to kill her you would have my sword and my father’s, that I can assure you of, In fact...” she grinned madly as she knelt on the floor and slid an armband out from under her sleeve, “Ivar Ragnarson, I swear to you on my brother’s armband that you will have my allegiance, my sword and my shield whenever you call upon it, I swear to avenge your mother and my brother or die trying,” she proclaimed. He was shocked. Never had anyone ever done that for him. He half expected it to be some cruel trick. But there, on the floor in front of him was loyalty like he had never witnessed.

“Rise Helfrim, I accept your pledge,” he commanded with a bit of uncertainty wavering in his voice. A plan began to form in his mind. “Tell me, could you spread the word to these relatives? I would very much like to meet them,” he inquired.

“I could but it would take about a month and a half,” she nodded.

“Good,“ he hummed thoughtfully, “I need time to plan, send word to them, tell them that Ivar Ragnarson invites them to Kattegat in the hopes of claiming it back in my rightful name, if they wish to accept my invitation tell them to dress as simple travellers and speak nothing of their business, if they don’t accept, do nothing and they shall remain as the men who did nothing in my memory.”

“Yes my prince, I will send one of my most trusted servants on the morrow,“ Helfrim nodded and smiled taking a step forward then halted, biting her lip, “I bid you good day my prince,” she quickly stammered and almost leapt out the door. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. What was that? He didn’t dwell on it, he was one step closer to exacting his vengeance. His triumphant smirk left his face as soon as he realised he still had a problem.

He turned to where he had last seen Ethna only to find a blank space. He whipped his head around in disbelief. Forget branding, perhaps a bell would be more suitable. How could she move that quietly? She had just been standing off to his side a minute ago. He whipped around again to spot her standing in the kitchen. She looked up and met his eyes for a brief moment before flinching away. He opened his mouth to say something but he was lost for words. He shut his mouth and the door burst open and Hvitserk noisily clambered in with a giggling Margrethe tailing behind him.

“Ah, I see you found her Ivar, just in time to help with lunch too!” Hvitserk commented. Ivar took long inhale as he shuffled off his chair and retreated to his room.

“Well, let me know when it’s ready then,” he seethed and slammed his door shut.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... What's going to happen next?
> 
> Fostre: A fostre (where English word foster comes from) is a slave that was born into the family. So a slave has a child (sometimes even the illegitimate child of the master), their child inherently becomes the property of the master. They grow up with the children of the household and are treated better and worth a lot more because they are part of the family and in a way have more sentimental value. Find out more about Viking slaves [here](http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/thralls.shtml)
> 
> This week I made some Character mood boards of some of the new characters which you can find on my Tumblr if you search [character profile](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character+profile)
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com)(where all my Ivar trash goes)


	17. Teach me to War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethna starts getting Idea's, Ubbe begins to initiate his plan, Hvitserk has some fun and Seumas is up to something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, sexual references.  
> 

She followed Margrethe's instructions and hand gestures, with some difficulty, to find the stream. To be honest she had never wanted to wash clothes so badly. She would do almost anything to get time out of the house. After an awkward and tense lunch, Ethna finally was told to do something to distract her. She shivered and set the basket of clothes down on the bank. She could try and run again but that was stupid. She didn’t know these lands. Running into words you didn’t know was idiotic. She couldn’t stole away on a ship either, she had no money, no trade for safe passage, if she hid without the crew's knowledge and was discovered, it would not end well for her. As well as this, it was mid-autumn, the boats would not be journeying further than short passages or fishing trips. For now, she was trapped.

Rolling up her sleeves she knelt down next to the stream and began to dip the clothes in the frigid water.  As she scrubbed a stain from a shirt she assumed to be Hvitserk’s she peered at her reflection. She had dark circles under her eyes and her throat had some shadowy patches. However, what held her gaze was the new length of her braid. She felt the tears well up again.

“Oh Lord God,” she began to pray, “I don't… understand what you're doing, I don't know what will happen to me… Lord, I'm frightened, these people, the dreams, the visions… Ivar… it all frightens me.”

“These heathens Lord, they are unholy, they defile women, they slaughter your people, I have escaped both fates so far and for that, I thank you, but… I am so confused… I had everything, a family, a home, I was going to be married… I had a future, and now… I have nothing, was I not thankful enough Lord?” She laughed, “Lord if that was your intention then it has well and truly been achieved. Lord, I don't know what you want from me, I'm scared and I feel like you've left me, have you left me? In this land I can't hear you, I can't see you. Can you see me here? Can you still hear me in this hell?” She sobbed looking up to the sky, “If you can hear me, I don’t ask for much Father, I will not ask you to rescue me, for I believe that you’ve made it clear that this is my place for now,” she admitted, “Please Lord, I ask that you comfort me, strengthen me, I don't want to feel helpless anymore, teach my hands to war and teach my mind to fight… I pray in Jesus’s name, amen.” She bowed her head and crossed herself.

 **“What are you doing?”** She spun around to face the startling voice. She calmed her racing heart when she saw Ardney to be the owner. **“You can’t pray here, a lot of people come here to do the washing, someone could see. These people don’t have a problem with Christianity as long as they don’t see it, you’ll need to be more careful luv.”**  So she couldn’t even talk to God in this place without fear **.** Ethna huffed and continued scrubbing at the clothes with new found rage **.** She was sick of fear. It just kept following her Like a starved wolf, watching but never pouncing. She hated it.  Ardney set down her washing basket and crouched down next to her. She reached her hand out to rest on Ethna’s shoulder. **“I know luv, I know,”**  she took her hands in her own and rubbed circles on the back of them, **“It rains on everyone Ethna. It rains on the just and the unjust,  the good and the bad, the young and the old, it rains on everyone, some more than others, that's just how it is.  Now you can either sink into the mud, stain your clothes and become cold and bitter or, you can look up at the clouds and learn to dance in the rain. Do you understand me luv?”**

 **“Yes,”** Ethna whispered **, “But I am bad dancer.”** Ardney giggled but stilled when she saw Ethna’s serious expression.

 **“What’re you thinking?”** Ardney questioned with a frown **.**

 **“I no dance, I want to fight,”** Ethna smiled sadly. 

* * *

 

 

Ivar had the same scowl on this face. So nothing had changed, Ubbe thought as he chewed on his meal. Hvitserk was spruiking on about Eìren to Margrethe, while Ethna stood behind Hvitserk holding a pitcher staring at the floor with a look that Ubbe could not discern.

“What did you like about Eìren, my love?” Margrethe asked him snapping his eyes to his wife.

“The landscape is lush and green and there are these cliffs that seem to rise up from the ocean,” he paused as he saw Hvitserk and Ethna exchange hushed tones but continued looking on, “The people are interesting, different to Saxons but somewhat similar, they’re also excellent craftsmen, some of the treasures we brought back look as if they were made by the Sons of Ivaldi...” he went silent when he saw Ethna shuffle toward Ivar the pitcher outstretched.

“Ivar,” She murmured, he glanced up at her, she took a breath and seemed to be trying to concentrate.

“Would… you… want to… fuck?”  What? Ubbe spat out his drink. Ivar dropped his drinking horn in shock, Margrethe began to choke and Hvitserk smirked as he stifled a laugh. Ethna frowned in confusion, looking at everyone and back to the pitcher. “Wo-uld you want-to fu-ck?” She tried again, sounding out every syllable holding the pitcher up gesturing with it. She turned to Hvitserk for help, “I do not understand, I no say good?” Hvitserk burst out into boisterous laughter and Margrethe joined with him. Ivar seemed to shrink into his chair. Ubbe groaned and slapped Hvitserk up the side of his head.

“You idiot!” He scolded Hvitserk. Ubbe then turned to Ethna, “Ethna, try; would you li-ke m-ore a-le,” he suggested.  Ethna blushed and nodded rapidly, figuring out she had been a victim of one of Hvitserk’s cruel jokes.

“Oh, sorry,” she nodded, “Would you like more ale?” She murmured embarrassed. Ivar glared up at her and slapped the pitcher from her hands. Ubbe winced as it hit the ground and spilt everywhere. Ethna looked down at the ground in shock and back at Ivar in a mix of confusion and rage. Ubbe tensed and prepared to jump over the table, but there was no need. Ivar just slid off his seat and crawled off toward his room.

“Clean that up!” He snapped over his shoulder before he slammed the door.

“ _You clean it up, you spoilt brat,”_ Ethna muttered something in her own language and stormed off to find a rag.

* * *

 

 

After dinner, Ethna cleaned up the plates and the cups. She wiped the table and swept the floor. Hvitserk and Margrethe had gone to bed, or so they said. Ivar had not reappeared and Ubbe seemed to have gone out. That left her to eat the small loaf of bread and meat drippings alone on the floor in front of the hearth.  She would have more to eat if she had hidden her portion. Unfortunately for her, Hvitserk had eaten hers assuming it was leftovers. It was a lesson she had learnt the hard way. In fact, today had been full of lessons she had learnt the hard way like; don't pray anywhere but in your mind, don't run away in a place you are a stranger to, watch where you are going, don't get lost, don't trust anyone, especially don't trust Ivar, don't ask Hvitserk for language advice, hide your possessions, hide your food and don't show initiative, that will only end with you being laughed at and cleaning ale off the floor.

Ethna couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. She had said something upsetting and embarrassing, that much she could gather, but she had apologised and she had done nothing to upset him further. The only reason she could think of was that Ivar was still angered by the events of last night. He had no right to throw his frustrations at her, it was his fault. Or it should have all been his fault, she couldn’t shake that nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her she could have stopped all this. If she was stronger she wouldn’t be cold and alone sitting in front of an unfamiliar hearth with hardly anything to eat. If she had the courage and the stomach to kill Ivar when she had the chance she could be wrapped in Fabian’s warm arms starting a family of their own.

 _“Ethna?”_ Upon hearing her name Ethna wiped her face and turned to Ubbe. He searched her face and sighed. He crept forward and slowly sat himself down next to her. What did he want? She stared at him hoping to convey what she was thinking. He only looked back at her with a sympathetic expression.  She knew he only wanted something from her, but she tried to fool herself into believing that he cared. " _Hvitserk ate your dinner, didn’t he? There were no leftovers.”_ She didn’t understand every word but she knew what he was asking when he gestured to her meal. She only nodded and spitefully took a bite out of her bread loaf. _“I’m sorry,”_ he offered.

She snorted _, “_ **Not your fault.”** He chuckled nodded pulling out something from behind him. He placed her book in her hands.

 _“I need your help,”_ he explained. She tilted her head. She knew he had only let her keep the _Art of Ailments_ for a reason. Curious she nodded her head gesturing for him to continue.  He carefully lifted the book from her hands and began to flip through the pages slowly and delicately as if he was afraid he'd tear them. It was quite funny to she a Viking warrior sat stooped over pieces of parchment he couldn’t read, carefully turning each page. It didn't quite suit him. He stopped at a particular page and handed the book back. “ _Do you know how to heal this?”_

She looked down at the book and dropped it on the floor in shock, averting her eyes. Ubbe laughed at her reaction. She frowned at him. Did he think this was funny? Was he playing a cruel joke on her? He pushed the open book back towards her and pointed at the vulgar illustration.

 _“Can you heal, yes or no?”_ She sighed and tried to read the page and failed. Groaning she used one of her palms to cover the distracting image, earning another chuckle from Ubbe. She rolled her eyes and began reading the text. She felt her face heat up and she swallowed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been exposed to this topic before, no, Fennore had treated it many times but she had hardly ever involved her. Fennore said that a man’s pride was a delicate thing. However, despite the vague familiarity, it was still an uncomfortable topic for her to think about.

She looked back to Ubbe.  The poor fellow, no wonder his wife was so easily wooed by his brother _._ This must be the reason he let her keep the book. She was his only hope of having an intimate relationship with his wife without going to a local healer and feeling ashamed. She drew in a breath and gave him a reassuring smile and continued to read on. There were a few different remedies for different causes. Some causes were said to be caused by anxiety or nervousness, others age and drink related. She read over different cures. She saw one for a poultice, she mulled it over, Fennore had told her in all her years' experience poultices only worked on healing wounds, so she kept reading. She saw one that required a massage and quickly moved on. She completely skipped over ‘The Virgin Cure” as Fennore told her that was rubbish. One remedy was described as an exercise, she kept that in mind but found one she was more comfortable with, ingredients for an infusion or tonic. All the ingredients she read she was familiar with; Maidenhair leaves, Barrenwort, Yohimbe and Ginseng. They were all exotic and expensive but only small amounts were required. Fennore told her, after a month to switch out the ingredients with yarrow and sage if nothing happened, tell them they were cured, if not switch back to the original tonic. The tonic was mainly to increase the confidence of a patient and as Fennore taught her in one of her first lessons, “Confidence works wonders.”

“ _Can you do it? Yes or no?_ ” Ubbe asked. She most definitely could if she had the ingredients. Whether she wanted to was another question. She wanted to help, but a petty part of her told her he didn’t deserve it. If she agreed, he would have to buy the ingredients. That but would not be a problem with all his recently ‘acquired’ wealth she reasoned. He could get her anything she needed. A terrible thought popped into her mind when she remembered he couldn’t read. He didn’t know what she actually needed.  With his wealth, she could tell him anything and he would buy it assuming she needed it. She could make anything, poison, sleeping draught, hallucinogens, anything she desired as long as she could hide it under Ubbe’s nose. Part of her screamed that that was despicable, taking advantage of him like that when he had been nothing but kind to her, but she drowned it out. If it helped her get out of here and back to her family, she’d risk bearing that on her conscience.

“ _Yes, “_ she nodded, _“I make… plants...you...”_ She pointed to the diagram of Barrenwort and pointed to the listed ingredients and looked back at him to see if he understood. He grinned.

“ _You need ingredients I understand,”_ he beamed and patted her hair, earning a squeak of surprise. _“Thank you Ethna you have no idea how happy you’re going to make my brother.”_  She didn’t understand most of that but she heard him thank her and something about being happy and his brother. She smiled at him, he should be happy. He was going to give Hvitserk a run for his money.

* * *

 

 

Ardney waited outside The House stared up at the crescent moon, a slight frown plastered to her features. It instantly  disappeared when she heard the crunch of pebbles behind her. Strong arms snaked around her waist and pulled her up against a warm familiar body. She sighed contentedly.

“What did ya do today my love?” Seumas asked as he pressed a kiss on Ardney’s shoulder.

“The usual,” she murmured as she leant her head to the side allowing Seumas to trail small sweet kisses up her neck. “How was your day?” She asked even though she already knew the answer.

“The usual, it was shit,” he huffed, “Perhaps ya could change that,” he whispered lowly as he ran his hands up and down her arms.

She giggled and turned around in his arms to face him.

“Maybe I could,” she suggested coyly.

He raised his eyebrows, “Maybe?”

“I am quite tired…” she teased.

“Maybe I should wake ya up a little,” he growled playfully and pulled her closer slowly edging foreword, backing her up against the wall.  

“Maybe you should wake me up a lot,” she suggested, leaning in closer so her forehead pressed against his.

“I think I might,” he agreed and lent down to capture her lips tugging her dress upward.

“What are you doing?” A young voice rang out behind them. They both jumped and untangled themselves. “Are you two having sex?”

“Well, no, thanks to you Esegar, ya Pìos cac gòracht,” Seumas snarled annoyed. Ardney blushed and looked at her feet, suddenly finding them very interesting.

“Sorry, I’ll um… come back later…” He blurted and turned on his heel.

“No, the moment's gone now, what do ya want boy?” Seumas sighed. Esegar turned back around and shuffled back towards them.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to Ardney,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, “I wanted to ask if you’ve seen Ethna, she didn’t come back to the house tonight… and I thought she might have… ah .. gotten lost or something, I was wondering if I...I mean we… should go looking for her?” Oh the poor boy. Ardney didn’t know if she should tell him or not. Perhaps she could ease the news to him.

“Ethna won’t be staying with us every night luv, she lives with her masters, but don’t worry, we’ll see her out and about, actually I saw her today just this afternoon. She’s fine, if I see her again I’ll tell her you said hello, alright luv?” She smiled at him.

“She’s not okay, is she?” Esegar immediately deduced with a weak voice, “Are they hurting her?”

“No, no, luv they aren’t hurting her,” she reassured the boy and hoped that she was in fact telling the truth, “Ethna is just a bit scared, she misses her home,” she explained.

Esegar nodded glumly, “Thanks Ardney, see you tomorrow morning Seumas,” he farewelled.

“What’d she say when ya talked with her earlier?” Seumas asked curiously.  

“I think she wishes she wasn’t so helpless, she told me she wants to fight,” Ardney retailed. Seumas snorted. She shot him a questioning glance, “What?”

“So the wee shite wants to fight eh?” He mused, “Who’d have guessed?” He snorted again and entered a contemplative trance before nodding to himself, “Ya should tell her to be careful what she wishes for,” he grinned.  Ardney crossed her arms and stood firm, she knew where this was going.

“No,” Ardney groaned, “I forbid it.”

“Forbid what my love?” He asked with false innocence and began to make his way inside with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Wait!” She called after him. She had to tell him, she probably wouldn’t get another chance for a while, “Stay out here a little longer, please.”

“Why?” He turned to her with furrowed eyebrows. She turned back to gaze at the night sky.

“It’s a crescent moon tonight…”

* * *

 

 

It was on the verge of late and early when he heard his door creak open. He wasn’t really asleep, to begin with but he slowly turned to face the source of the noise. In the dim light he could discern Ubbe’s silhouette enter his room. In his arms, he carried a half conscious Ethna. He trudged over to Sigurd’s old bed and lifted the covers. Ivar watched jealously as his brother placed Ethna on the bed and slipped the covers back over her. He wished he could carry her, then his brother would never have to touch her. He inwardly groaned. He couldn’t hide from his problem now. She was sleeping across from him, basically staring him in the face through closed eyelids.

“Why did you put her there?” he hissed quietly. Ubbe crept over to him.

“What? You wanted her to sleep on the floor outside? It was this bed or my bed and my bed’s full enough,” he argued.

“You should have left her on the floor,” he seethed. Ubbe knelt down to his eye level and glared at him.

“I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, it’s something you’ve got to make right with her,” he pointed at the sleeping woman, “And yourself, it’s eating you up inside.”

“What makes you think I care what she thinks of me, she is a slave…”

“Oh stop it!” Ubbe commanded with a hiss,“That mentality is not helping anyone, I know you care about her, that you are fond of her, you wouldn’t have dragged her halfway across the world and kept her alive after all those escape attempts if you didn’t.” Ubbe took in a breath, “The truth is brother, that she will never love you, or express loyalty towards you if you continue to treat her like you are now.” Ivar rolled over. He didn’t want to hear this. “I know you’re not ‘soft’ as you like to say, and you never will be. But I would suggest at least trying not to take your own personal demons out on her.” He hated being spoken to like a child, but he knew, in this instance, what Ubbe was saying was true.

He sighed and rolled back over to face his brother, “How?” he croaked shocked at the shakiness of his own voice, “I don’t know what to do, how do I get her to love me?” He hated how desperate he sounded, but he needed help, he couldn’t continue living like this. He’d go insane.

“You can start by trying to get to know her, teach her our language, teach her about our people, spend time with her, learn about her people, her family, show her you’re interested in who she is, not her body, show her she is worth something, that she is worth at least some of your time,” Ubbe suggested before standing up and moving to the door pausing before leaving, “Also, perhaps consider apologising.” He added as he quietly creaked the door shut. Everything His brother had said up until that sentence was sound. He would try what his brother suggested but, he would never admit that he was wrong. That’s what apologising was, and if Ubbe had learnt anything from the years of living with him it should’ve been the fact that; Ivar the Boneless never apologised.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sons of Ivaldi: Famous dwarfs In Norse mythology, who fashion Skidbladnir, the ship of Freyr, and the Gungnir, the spear of Odin, as well as golden hair for Sif to replace what Loki had cut off.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com)(where all my Ivar trash goes)


	18. Hidden Agendas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seumas, Ethna and Esegar get down to business and Ivar takes his brother's advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, sexual references.

* * *

 

Comfort was relative. Right now, Ethna was in the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in, but she was by no means ‘comfortable’.  She lay awake, long before the sun peeked up over the land, staring at the reason her life was difficult.  He looked completely different in the confines of slumber. His face was relaxed and expressionless. His hair was ruffled as if he'd been out on a windy day and his chest rose up and down rhythmically. She couldn’t make sense of it. Right here, right now, Ivar was barely a man. He was more like a boy teetering on adulthood. She liked him better when he was asleep, she concluded.

Sighing, she decided there was no use in staying in bed doing nothing, it was just wasting time. Perhaps if she got her chores done she could go visit Ardney or find the other Gaels she had spotted before. She quietly rolled out of bed, wincing in the cool air. After straightening the covers of the bed and slipping on her shoes and apron, she padded out in the dark main cabin to make a start on breakfast. Using the flint striker she sparked the hearth to life and lit a few of the lamps. She decided that boiled eggs, stew and bread should be a sufficient meal for them and set to making the stew and bread first. That way she could leave to get water from the well while the meal cooked. Taking a moment to look out the window, she brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and sniffled. This was her life now.

* * *

 

 

Ethna hefted two buckets and made towards the closest well Ardney had shown her.  Setting down the buckets, she started singing to herself as she lowered them into the darkness. She sang when she was alone, which was not often. Her voice was nothing special, there were many others far better than her, but it was something she found passed the time and made the most numbing of tasks somewhat interesting.  

“Rop tú mo baile, a Choimdiu cride: ní ní nech aile acht Rí secht nime...” she began to sing low and deep. It didn’t matter if someone heard, they wouldn’t understand her words. They could stop her from praying, but never singing, “Rop tú mo scrútain i l-ló 's i n-aidche;rop tú ad-chëar im chotlud caidche…”

 _“You have got a lovely voice.”_ She jumped out of her skin and groaned at splash below her. She growled at herself.  She was going to have to pull that all the way up again.Turning towards the voice her expression softened. _“Sorry I didn't mean to scare you, here I will help,”_ Esegar nervously apologised. The boy grunted as he hauled the rope, _“I was looking for you, I hoped you would be awake, that way we have time before the day starts, come on,”_ he gestured for her to follow him. What did he want?

She frowned and held her hands up, “ _Sorry, I do not understand.”_

 _“Follow me,”_ he beckoned again. It took her awhile to think of the right word but it came to her eventually.

 _“Why?_ ”She inquired as she filled her buckets.

 _“Seumas, he has a surprise for you,”_ Esegar explained excitedly. She heard Seumas and her face lit up. But she was still confused, why was he taking her to Seumas?

“ _Sur...prise_?” She tested with uncertainty.

 _“Yeah surprise, you know...”_ He mimed giving something, “Tada!” He jumped suddenly jiggled his fingers with a smile on his face. She nodded slowly. So a kind surprise or gift?

 _“Gift?_ ” She questioned. Her mind immediately screamed don’t trust anyone, but she shut it away. Seumas, she could trust. She knew that the moment she laid eyes on him.

 _“Yeah, we will go with that,”_ Esegar nodded and shrugged and continued walking. She paused and cast a worried glance towards the way she came.

“Ivar…”

 _“Do not worry, they will be asleep, they will just be waking by the time we get back, okay?”_  The boy's words were difficult to comprehend fully but she reasoned that Ivar, Ubbe and Hvitserk wouldn’t wake for a while yet. The fire would slowly die down, but the coals would keep the food warm, she’d just have to boil the water and eggs when she got back. Without a second thought she dumped her buckets and began to follow the boy.

* * *

 

 

Where was the boy? He was probably dawdling. With every second that past, more uncertainty crept up within him. This was a bad idea. If they were caught, they could all be killed, and it would be his fault. He would have failed them. He had failed before, that's how he ended up in this shit hole. It had nothing to do with numbers or his age at the time, he should have fought harder or died. He never should have let them take his freedom, his people's freedom. He should have done many things, but it was too late for that now. All he could do now was wash away his regrets with ale or wallow in them during the day when Ardney wasn’t there to lift him out of the muck that was his life.

Who are you to teach them? His mind snarled at him. You’ve failed before and you’ll fail again. It was true. He was a failure, but with failure came learning. It raised the stakes. He had watched the miasma of hopelessness descend on so many others. Time and again, bright eyes would dull and babbling mouths would shut. No more, he promised himself. He wouldn’t let it happen to them. The were too spirited to be destroyed by this unforgiving land. He didn’t want them to sink down into the pit of ‘should’ve been’ and ‘would’ve been.’ If they wanted to learn to defend themselves, they needed a teacher. And a teacher, even a washed-out failure of a man, was better than no teacher.

“ _We are here,”_ the boy announced with poorly hidden excitement.  He smiled to himself. He was going to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

“ _Took ya long enough_ Pìos cac gòracht,” he barked. Esegar scoffed and mumbled something he didn’t quite catch. He turned to Ethna, “ **So ya wanna defend ye’self wee shite? Are ya willin’ to put in the hard yards lass?”** Her face contorted into a confused frown. “Oh airson an gràdh Cailleach Bheur, _my Saxon’s wrong again isn’t it?”_   He groaned and looked to Esegar.

“ _Sounded about right to me,_ ” he shrugged, “ _Wait, she can speak Saxon? But I thought she was from Eire. Are you saying I danced around like an idiot for nothing?”_

 _“Ya do that all the time and have no problem, think before you open your mouth boy, you’re a Saxon speaking’ Norse for cryin’ out loud, Just ‘cause she is from Eire doesn't mean she couldn’t have learnt another language,how do you think Ardney’s been talkin’ to her?”_ He spat. Sometimes, if it weren’t for his brief moments, he would’ve believed the boy had been dropped on his head as a child.

“ _Here, I’ll try,”_ Esegar sighed as he offered, **“Seumas is offering to teach us to fight, do you want to learn?”**

Ethna looked to Seumas and back to Esegar, **“I want to learn, I want to fight, but Ivar, Helfrim, if they see… ”** she murmured.

 **“If we train ‘ere every day before the sun’s up, ‘till the sun rises, we should be able to get back before our master’s notice we’re missin’. If we don’t tell anyone, no one’ll know,”** he reassured.

Ethna mulled it over, **“I will fight, if you teach me** ,” she grinned, **“But speak slower, I understand better,”** she suggested.

 **“She can’t understand your accent** ,” Esegar laughed. Seumas grinned and leant down to pick up a bucket. He was going to have some fun.

 **“Alright, today’s lesson,”** he reached into the bucket and picked out a handful of stones. **“Avoiding enemy fire,”** he announced and hurled a stone at Esegar’s head.

 **“Ouch!”** Esegar squawked and ducked clutching his head.

 **“You’re dead** Pìos cac gòracht!“ He hurled a rock at Ethna. She squeaked and ducked. **“Good wee Shite, but you can't duck and weave forever, what do you do?”** He hurled more stones in their direction.

 **“You’re supposed to teach us what to do!”** Esegar yelled back at him.

 **“I’m a strong believer in learnin’ from experience,** “ he retorted gleefully and pegged another stone at the boy. Esegar screeched and dropped to the ground as a rock missed him by a hair's breadth.

 **“Good,”** he praised. **“It's a good idea to get low, however, don’t stay there, ya make ye’self an easy target,”** he pelted three rocks at him. All hitting their mark.

 **“Rule one of combat: Never. Ever. Let ye’self be pushed to the ground. Only kiss the dirt if ya want to die or yer dead. It makes you an easy target, it makes it hard to move around, and it makes it almost impossible to fight back. Ya both got legs, use ‘em, come on, make it hard for me, run around, find cover, get a shield,”** he instructed. Ethna jumped to action immediately wrenching Esegar off the forest floor and dragging him behind a tree.

 **“Today's task is to strike me without gettin’ hit ye’self, and Esegar you've already failed, four times, well done, yer well and truly dead.”** He took a handful of rocks and stalked to towards the tree they were behind.  He heard them whispering. Good, they were working together. They’d figure something out, they were smart but he had hoped they would have at least picked up a log or something.  He crept behind a tree and crouched low. He took aim and threw a rock. Ethna wailed and clutched her shoulder. He sighed, “ **Yer dead, wee shite.”** He had a lot of work to do.  

He looked towards the horizon and shook his head at the faint glow. Esegar had taken up so much time getting here they had run out of time.

 **“Better luck tomorrow, use yer time wisely and think of a strategy for tomorrow's lesson** ,” he instructed.

“ **You call that a lesson!?”** Esegar grumbled and rubbed his head, **“You just threw rocks at us, I thought you were going to teach us to be warriors like you!”**

Seumas bristled and turned to meet the boy's accusatory stare, **“Let's get one thing straight, I’m not trainin’ ya to be warriors.”** He marched up to them, “ **You may never be on a battlefield, in fact after today, I pray to the gods that ya never are, but ya both ‘ave seen first hand that battles don't always stay where they're s’posed to be.”**

“ **I’m not trainin’ ya to become warriors,”** he gripped both of their shoulders, “ **I‘m trainin’ ya to fight warriors** ,” he paused and leant down to Esegar’s level.  “ **While they fight to die and to kill, ya fight to live and thrive,”** he explained, “ **I’m trainin’ ya so ya can defend ye’selves and others, so that ya'll be able to fight in any situation, using yer mind, yer body and yer surroundin’s,”** he stared at them both with intensity, “ **I’ll train ya like this because I was trained  to be a warrior, and fat lot of good it did me when someone bet’ter came along,”** he grieved. They both nodded. Esegar wore confusion, but Ethna radiated seriousness.

“ **I will see you tomorrow,”** she farewelled, **“Esegar, can you show me way to well?”**

“ **Yes, of course, see you later Seumas, thank you for pelting me with rocks,** ” he quipped and turned to lead Ethna off. Seumas smiled. The boy has cheek, he thought to himself as he picked up another stone, aimed, and let it fly.

 **“Ow! What the hell was that for?”** Esegar whined and rubbed his sore backside and kept walking.

“ _Yer welcome_ Pìos cac gòrach,” he called out after him. Brìghde grant him guidance because he had his work cut out for him.

* * *

 

It was coming to the point where it wasn’t a surprise anymore to wake up and find that she had evaporated. He groaned as he dragged himself out of his room. Hvitserk was already up and stuffing his face with something.

“Good morning Ivar,” Hvitserk garbled. Ivar just huffed. Where had he gotten the food from? Hvitserk wouldn't usually bother to make something this early in the morning. “That thrall of your’s is a keeper, she is a talented cook,” Hvitserk praised answering Ivar’s silent question.

“She made breakfast?” Ivar frowned, “Are you sure it was not Margrethe?”  
“Not unless she can multitask brother, she was quite busy with Ubbe when I got out of bed,” he smirked, “Why do you ask?”

Ivar rolled his eyes and set his jaw, “I can’t find Ethna, she’s not in the house,” he admitted, “I believe she has run away, again.”

Hvitserk snorted, “Well at least she was nice enough to make us breakfast before she slipped out, honestly brother this is getting out of hand, I never thought I'd say this, but you need to have a firmer hand, this ca...” The door creaked opened and they both snapped their heads around to see Ethna struggling through the door with two buckets of water in hand. She closed the door skillfully with her foot then glanced up and noticed the brothers’ eyes boring into her. She looked around nervously.  

“Breakfast,” she explained shakily and lifted the buckets. They both nodded in comprehension and watched her scurry into the kitchen.

She had stopped running. That is a good thing, he told himself, it mean she had begun to accept her circumstances.  He watched her keenly as she flitted about the kitchen from his seat at the table and thought back to Ubbe’s words last night. Today, he would spend some time with her and try to figure out a new strategy to gain her affection. It was going to be tough, but he liked a challenge, it made victory all the more satisfying.

“Who taught you how to cook?” He began with a simple question.

She jumped at his voice and lowered her head, “I do not understand,” she mumbled.

He sighed and translated the phrase. She turned to face him with surprise written across her face.

She bit her lip and focused back on preparing breakfast.

“ **Mother** ,” she smiled sadly. He nodded thoughtfully. It seemed she had good memories of her.

“Móðir in Norse,” he offered.

“Móðir,” she tried.

“What's your móðir’s name?” He tilted his head observing her reaction carefully.

“Eimile,” she answered with a distant look in her eyes that he recognised all too well. Eimile must have died, he deduced. That was something they had in common. “Breakfast,” she announced and placed a bowl in front him before continuing to set the table. Hvitserk materialised in his seat and proceed to rip into his meal. Ubbe and Margrethe wandered out of their room, giggling to each other. He huffed as they sat down and Hvitserk shuffled over towards them greeting them both before locking his lips with Margrethe's. He didn’t know why it made his blood boil to see that  bitch of a woman cling, fondle and kiss them both so openly, but it did. He eyed Ethna standing by the table clutching a pitcher, gazing at the floor. For once he wanted to give Ubbe and Hvitserk a chance to feel as he did.

“Ethna,” he drew her attention, her head tilted up and he grinned at her, “Come sit with me, it must be tiring to stand for so long,” he beckoned.  She furrowed her brow and padded over to him. She raised the pitcher up questioningly, he shook his head and took it from her hands, placing it on the table. She stood still in confusion.  “Sit,” he insisted and patted the empty space on the bench next to him, despite him wishing she would sit on his lap.

She bit her lip again and lowered her head, “I do not und...”

“Sit.” He gritted quietly. There was no way she could have misunderstood that gesture, she was being difficult, again. He flashed her a menacing glare and hoped that one day he wouldn't have to. She caved and slowly lowered herself onto the bench next to him.  He flashed her a grin and shuffled a little closer to her. She stiffened and swallowed. His grin faded.  Was she so terrified of him that she didn’t even want to sit next to him? He sighed and told himself to remember the challenge and the victory, he would fix this. Pursing his lips he and reached across the table to grab the pitcher. Ethna flinched. Ubbe shot him scrutinising look and Ivar realised he had been watching his every move. He met Ubbe’s eyes with annoyance, “I’m trying,” he mouthed silently at him and earned a curious nod from his older brother.

He pulled his unused cup towards him, filled it and slid it over to Ethna. She eyed it suspiciously and looked to him.

“Drink,” he waved, “You must be thirsty.” She sheepishly took it in her hands and lifted it to her mouth. She took a gulp and winced trying to keep it down. After, she broke into a coughing fit. Everyone chuckled. Even he couldn’t help the small snort that escaped his lips.

“Don’t like the ale Ethna?” Ubbe chuckled.

She looked up at him with a nervous half smile, **“** Different **,”** she offered.

“How? Is it stronger? Too much for you to handle?” Hvitserk snickered.

Ethna was silent for a time as if she were deciphering what he had said.

“Weaker,” she eventually snorted. Ubbe and Margrethe burst into boisterous laughter and Ethna let out her own little titter. The small sound made his mouth twitched up. And he, himself, laughed.

* * *

 

Later that morning Ethna fled the cabin and came to the river to find a familiar figure crouching on the bank.

 _“Good morning Ardney!”_ She exclaimed using her newly learnt phrase.

 _“Good morning Ethna,”_ she smiled. **“You look in a better mood than yesterday Luv, what’s changed?”**

“ **Ivar good mood, I good mood,”** she shrugged, “Ivar…” she waved her arm imitating an ocean with rolling waves. She whistled as her arm inclined upwards and made a crashing sound when she inclined it downwards. Honestly, that man had worse mood swings than a pregnant cat.

Ardney giggled, **“You're not wrong luv. If he’s not the problem then what’s gone wrong this early in the morning to have you out of the house?** ” The perceptiveness of the woman never failed to amaze her.

“Helfrim,” she spat. Ardney nodded, **“Ivar see her now, I don’t like her, she scare, I keep away.”** she admitted.  Ardney chuckled again. Ethna turned to face her. Today she seemed happier than usual, if that was even possible. **“Why are you in a good mood?”**

Ardney leant forward and place her hands on her shoulders and smiled at her.

* * *

 

She watched the display from behind the tree.  As Ethna hugged Ardney and smiled back, Runi grinned a smile of her own.  This was interesting news indeed. She didn’t know much Saxon. However, by working and living with the lowlifes she knew a few distinct words and phrases.  And she knew those four words perfectly well. She quietly slunk backwards from the tree and broke into a run.  Her master would be pleased.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh airson an gràdh Cailleach Bheur; Oh For the love of Cailleach Bheur.  
> Cailleach Bheur: A Celtic Scottish goddess of creation and winter who was well revered in the area Seumas grew up. This is modern day Argyll and Bute and neighbours the Strathclyde region. She is described as a white haired giantess hag. She herds deer and other cattle, she fights spring, and her staff freezes the ground. In modern day Scott's Gaelic Cailleach means 'Hag'
> 
> Brìghde: the Scottish equivalent Of Brigid, the goddess of poetry, healing, teaching and craft or smithing. She is also associated with spring and the sun.
> 
> Rop tú mo Baile or Be thou my vision  
> This hymn has many different versions so I went with the oldest one I could find which dates as far back as 7 century. The most popular English version was translated by Eleanor Hull and published in 1912 and set to the tune of the Irish folk tune "Slane", to which the song is sung to this day, both in English and Irish. The song has often been attributed to the sixth-century Irish Christian poet Saint Dallan. Ethna only sings the first verse in this chapter but here is the full rough English translation.
> 
> Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;  
> Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.  
> Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,  
> Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.  
> Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;  
> I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;  
> Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;  
> Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.  
> Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;  
> Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;  
> Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:  
> Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.  
> Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,  
> Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:  
> Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,  
> High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.  
> High King of Heaven, my victory won,  
> May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!  
> Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,  
> Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com) (where all my Ivar trash goes)


	19. Time and Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter Ethna debates what she really wants and what she is willing to do to get it. While Runi and Helfrim are conspiring with each other and Helfrim agrees to help with Ivar's plans for revenge, Ethna meets Ruth who has some interesting knowledge to share with her. After, Ubbe takes Ethna to the market for a sensitive errand and Ivar tries to make amends with his thrall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, violence, trauma, yelling
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTICE IN END NOTES

* * *

She sighed contentedly.  He truly was brilliant. The past few days had been the best of her life. She had found purpose. Revenge, appreciation, becoming closer to the prince, it was all exhilarating.

“I see you're in high spirits,” Runi teased as Helfrim scoffed.

“I’m glad to be home that is all,” she mumbled.

“We both know that’s not true,” Runi slid into the chair across from her and continued mending some clothes. “Tell me Hel, how did it go?” She pressed excitedly.

“Well, to be honest, it didn’t start too well,” Helfrim sighed, “I told him I had sent word and I had managed to scrounge 80 men that would fight for him, he was delighted, but he then asked me to join Lagertha, to become one of her shieldmaidens.”

Runi scoffed, “What did you tell him Hel?”

“I told him I wouldn’t breathe in the same room as that bitch,” she smirked and leant back in her chair.

“He didn’t take it well?” Runi guessed with a chuckle.

“Oh no, he was quite calm, he told me that we needed to be patient and think of the satisfaction it would give us to see the look on her face when she realised that she had been betrayed by one of her own,” she assured,“Ohh, his cunning and confidence Runi,” she digressed, “I struggled to keep my self composed, his planning, it’s meticulous, such patience it’s just...” she moaned.

“Patience is a good quality, a man who takes his time is certainly worth it,” Runi giggled.

“He needs me Runi, he trusts me to do this for him,” she sighed happily turning her head to face her best friend, “I think finally he sees me.”

“He has always seen you, he remembered your name, he never remembers most people’s names,” Runi pointed out.

“That is true,“ she nodded, “But that bitch he brought back from Eire, I hate her, he’s always around her, the stupid thrall doesn’t even pretend to show affection for him, I don’t know why he bothers.” Runi chortled. “What? Do you think it is funny?” Helfrim snarled.

“I think it’s funny that you, a noblewoman, are envious of a foreign whore,” Runi observed, “Listen to me Hel, you love him, you are loyal to him, he will see that, in time his new play thing will lose her shine, he will realise that you can give him so much more than that bitch, and it will be her that grovels in the dirt, jealous of you,” she encouraged, “You'll win him over, and you know why?”

“Why?” Helfrim rolled her eyes.

“Because you always win Hel,” Runi grinned. Helfrim smirked and clapped Runi’s shoulder.

“What would I do without you?” Runi smiled and leant into her touch.

“You certainly wouldn’t hear what I heard from Ardney while she was washing today,” Runi suggested slyly and Helfrims ears pricked up.

* * *

 

Ardney had finished mending her dress, she said she had other business to attend to but Ethna could pick it up from the slave house. Ethna walked with a bounce in her step towards the slave house cradling a basket of washing in her hands. She was truly happy for Ardney and Seumas. God had blessed them with each other in this misery. When she looked at Seumas and Ardney she told herself that what they had was what she wanted. To look each other and smile while the world around them burned. That was love, she thought clinging to her pendant.That’s what she had with Fabian, and that was what she had to get back to.

She poked her head through the doorway to find the house almost deserted. A lonely figure crouched at the loom muttering to herself. It was the young woman with the glossy dark skin, the woman who had stood to her defence when she awoke to accusing fingers. Slowly she paced towards the loom admiring the exotic tapestry she was fussing over. It was bright and colourful filled with vibrant reds, earthy yellows and many patterns, she had never seen anything like it.

“ **It’s beautiful,”** she marvelled at it. The young woman turned to face her briefly before turning back to her work.

 _“It’s not finished yet,”_ the woman stated in Norse,  Ethna reason that perhaps she did not know much Saxon. She wondered why the woman would bother using her spare time making something so beautiful and meticulous.

 _“Why do?”_  Ethna questioned with a gesture to the frame.

 _“Why am I making it?”_ She supplied, Ethna nodded.

The woman sighed, _“I wish to sell it,_ ” she explained, _“I’ve been saving to buy back my freedom for a long time now, I’m almost there.”_ Ethna couldn’t believe her ears. Surely she heard wrong. This woman was buying back her freedom. Slaves were not allowed to sell their own trade, were they?

 _“Freedom? You make, you sell, then free?”_ She gawked astonished at the thought.

 _“I sell these to pay back my worth,_ ” she elaborated, _“I can make about three to four pieces of silver from this, my master has agreed to settle for 35 pieces of silver to allow me to buy my freedom.”_ She combed the threads up, tightly packing them, _“One or two more tapestries and I’m a free woman,”_ she smiled. Ethna digested what she had been told. From what she could comprehend this woman was buying herself from her master. Ethna wondered if it was possible  for her to buy back her freedom

 _“Can… can I do?”_ She inquired hopefully.

 _“It depends, I think your master likes you too much to let you, but give it a few years his interest in you will wane, then ask him,”_ the woman offered. Ethna slumped. From what she could comprehend the woman had confirmed her own thoughts, she could try but she doubted that Ivar would let her, even if she was the worst slave in the world, he would want her to suffer. She huffed and looked back up at the woman.

“ _What is your name?_ ” She asked. The woman looked at her with a sad smile.

 _“It’s Ruth,”_ she replied and turned back to her work but Ethna was not finished.

 _“Gael thrall, where?”_ She inquired. She didn’t remember to ask Ardney early this morning but perhaps Ruth knew where her other country men were. Ruth turned away from the loom and faced her with an empathetic look on her face.

 _“I’m sorry, they were only here for a day then they got shipped off,”_ she informed, _“They had to leave so their ships could make it back before winter,“_ she continued, _“As far as I know they were taken to the Mediterranean and some were taken east to the Rus.”_ Ethna’s heart sunk. She was the only one of her people here, she would not be able to speak her own tongue to anyone. She hung her head.

 _“Thank you, Ruth,”_ she murmured and picked up her dress, placing it with the other clothes in the basket, she turned to leave.

_“How long have you been having the visions?” Ruth’s abrupt question echoed around her._

_“I don’t understand,“_ Ethna answered.

 **“Dreams, bad dreams, future dreams,”** Ruth supplied. Ethna’s mouth opened and closed. How did she know?

 _“I don’t understand,”_ she uttered and quickly turned to leave.

 _“I understand,”_ Ruth called behind, “ _They scare you, you don’t understand what they mean, the dead speak, you are afraid of being unholy, yes?”_ Slowly Ethna turned to face Ruth and swallowed.

“ _Back in my home country, my mother was like you, she would dream in the night and see things she did not understand and faces of people she never met, I know very well the muffled screams and whimpers of a Seeress_ ,” she retold. Ethna tensed. ‘Seeress’, she had heard that word whispered when she woke up yesterday morning, and now it only confirmed her suspicions. Once again people thought she was a witch.  She took a heavy breath, would she ever be able to escape that label? Seeing her look of despair Ruth reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder, “ _You are not cursed or unholy, to have the sight is tough and the burden is heavy, but it is a gift given by the gods to those they believe are capable of wielding it,”_ she comforted. Ethna furrowed her brow. It was frustrating to know only some of what someone said. She vaguely had a clue but not fully. However, some attempted comfort was better than none.

 _“Thank you, Ruth,_ ” she nodded uncertainly.

“ _You aren’t alone, even in this land there are people who have visions, there’s a Seer who lives here in Kattegat perhaps he can share some knowledge,”_ she suggested, _“Ivar’s mother was also a Seeress, perhaps Ivar or his brothers might be able to help, but you’re probably not comfortable with that,”_ she added. Were there others like her here in Kattegat? Was that what Ruth was saying? She had definitely said something about Ivar’s mother. She lifted an eyebrow.

“ _Where Ivar’s mother?_ ” Ethna asked curiously.

Ruth shook her head, “ _Emphasis on ‘was’, she is dead, killed by Queen Lagertha.”_ Ivar’s mother was dead. Something they had in common. She wondered what kind of mother she would have been to have let Ivar grow up into a cruel, selfish brat. Hvitserk, a crude, grinning slob. And Ubbe, a seemingly kind hearted and honourable man. Perhaps her loss had something to do with their drastically different behaviours, she knew her whole family changed when her mother died. Eoin went from lighthearted to bitter, Brennan went from larrikin to responsible and Connor went from curious boy to observant strategist.

Ruth’s eyes darted to the doorway and she set her weights and combs down and hurriedly packed up.

 _“If you need to talk, you can come to me,_ ” she whispered in her direction before leaving the house. Someone behind her cleared his throat. She spun around to face Ubbe standing with a grin plastered to his face and a familiar book nestled in his arm.

“Ethna,” he greeted with a nod.

 _“Ubbe, what can I do for you?_ ” She wondered out loud using yet another phrase Ivar had taught her.

“ _Come to the market with me, will need help to carry some things and…”_ He pulled out the book and waved it around, “ _We have some ingredients to buy._ ”

* * *

 

Ethna trudged behind him as he scouted the marketplace. Usually, Margrethe would do this, but today's agendas were… Sensitive.  He glanced back at the girl. She had her head down and arms hugging herself, her wicker basket’s handle nestled in the crook of her elbow. What had Ivar done to her? She had always seemed timid, but now, he saw only a ghost of the girl who had set fire to tents, freed slaves and spat back foreign words. He could see why Ivar wanted her out of all women. She was as kind as she was beautiful. She was also clever, she had a kind of spirit that was rare. Ubbe could only imagine what kind of sister she must’ve been to her brothers to catch Ivar’s interest. Ivar did not realise it but Ubbe knew that Ivar wished to be cared for and loved underneath. Deep underneath.

Ivar wished for affection and acceptance that he had gotten from no one but their mother, even then it was not healthy.  He knew that’s what Ivar wanted from Ethna. That is why he had stolen her and kept her to himself, trying and failing to make her love him. It made Ubbe cringe, his poor brother had no idea. He decided after he found Ivar lurking over Ethna with a knife that day, that he was going to have to take matters into his own hands, for both of their sakes. Ubbe hadn’t been there for Ivar in the first place, that was why he was like this. It was his fault and his own negligence that allowed Ivar to kill Sigurd. It was on his watch. If had he been a better brother it never would have happened.

He spotted the stall he was looking for. He sighed and urged her onwards and towards the foreign merchant.

“Ah, Ubbe! What do you need my friend? Turmeric? Wine? Oh! How ‘bout some silk for your wife ey?” The man beamed. Ubbe felt some what guilty for not remembering the man's name, but his father told him when he was young, merchants often did this to goad you into buying more from them than you ought.

“We’re looking for herbs, medicinal and otherwise,” he supplied and pushed Ethna forward. She opened the book and began reading out ingredients to the merchant. The merchant quirked an eyebrow but nodded scooping leaves, roots and powders into pouches. He examined the odd little pouches sat at the counter. He glanced back to the merchant and Ethna, noticing she seemed hesitant as she said the next ingredient. The merchant frown and looked to Ubbe and back at Ethna but shrugged. He rummaged around a large chest and produced a bottle and placed it on the counter with the others. As she continued to talk with the merchant he picked up the bottle and examined it. He couldn’t read the label but the little illustration of a skull stuck out to him.

He stared at her in disbelief. She met his gazed, inhaled quickly, and looked away. She was trying to poison them. She had betrayed his trust. He had been a fool to think he could place this much trust in her in the first place. He took the bottle from the counter in rage. He stalked over to her and gripped her arm and yanked her to face him to him.

“You think me a fool!” He barked at her.

“I am sorry,” she stammered and shrunk back from him, not even trying to deny it.

“You want to kill us?!” He shook her.

“No, no, no,” she sobbed, “Ubbe, **I did not intend to use,”** she pleaded and tried to pry his grip from her arm.

 **“** Really? **You did not intend to use? What else are you going to use poison for? hmm?!”** He seethed tightening his grip on her. She rattled with fear as he glared her down.

“ **I see if you pay attention… test if you trust me,”** she cried.

He withdrew his hand and stared at her suspiciously as she shrunk into herself.

He turned back to the merchant, “Are any of these poisonous?” He gestured to the pouches left on the counter.

“No, my friend, all are common elements in treatments,” the merchant answered quickly.

“Thank you,” he nodded and paid the man. He grabbed Ethna by the scruff of the neck and dragged her from the stall. He gritted his teeth. He was going to regret this. He didn’t want to, but he needed to make sure something like this never happened again. He turned down an alley, away from prying eyes and shoved her up against a fishing shed.  

“ **Do not ever test me again Ethna!”** He snarled at her and she flinched her head to the side. **“LOOK AT ME!”** He commanded. She whimpered and turned to face him. Taking in her tears and quivering. He turned his head away and grimaced angrily steeling himself before turning back to her. **“If you step out of line again, I will find someone else from your land to read for me, I do not need you,** do you understand me?” He threatened.

“Yes Ubbe,” she nodded profusely. Her look of betrayal set deep within her eyes cut him as badly as a knife would. He stopped himself at that thought, no, she had betrayed him, not the other way around. “ **Don’t you dare look at me like that,”** he warned, **“I didn't care if you didn’t intend to use it, you betrayed my trust Ethna, I treated you with kindness and respect and you betray me,”** he spat.   

She hung her head wiping the tears from her eyes, “I am sorry.”

“You will be when Ivar hears of this,” he turned to leave.

“NO!” Ethna shrieked, “Please **do not tell him,** please Ubbe do not,” she pleaded hysterically, “He will kill me… Please, Ubbe do not...” she grasped his cloak.

He turned back to her, “I won’t tell him Ethna,” he decided, “But remember I can,” he warned her as he yanked his cloak from her. “Go home Ethna, I still have business here.” She sniffed and turned and ran from him. He sighed and shook his head. There was no way to handle that better, he told himself. You did what you had to do.  

* * *

  

After dinner, she quickly scarfed down her own portion and cleared away the table. She was still shaken from earlier today. She deserved it, she told herself. It was wicked to betray the man who had only shown her kindness. She had made a mistake and paid dearly for it. She didn’t know why she asked the merchant for the Nightshade, she knew she wouldn’t be able to use it. It went against every bone in her body. She guessed what she told Ubbe was true, she wanted to see if she would get caught, and she didn’t. She felt guilty over the possession of numerous substances she didn’t need for the tonic. It was true, none of them could do any harm, they were standard medicines. But just in case some of the others needed them, is what she told herself when she asked for them. What if Ardeny needed treatment her masters refused her? What if sickness broke out in the slave house? No one would care, no one except her. Ethna could help when no else would bother. And this way none of it would be at her expense.

She felt Ivar’s eyes track her around the room as she searched for the broom.

She met his gaze, _“Ivar, what can I do for you? ”_ He grinned and leant back in his chair.

 He shrugged, “ **How well do you remember the words I taught you?”**

 **“Well enough,”** she sighed taking up the broom from the corner of the living area.

 _“I’ll be the judge of that,”_ he smirked something in her direction, “ _How about_ **Mother?** ” He prompted from his chair as she swept the floor. So he wanted to play this game again? She snorted. She was hoping he would have left it on the boat that brought her to this wretched place.

“Móðir,” she answered.  He taught her that one this morning, he was going to have to try harder than that to challenge her.

* * *

 

He nodded, “Good, what about this one; **Brother**?”  

“Bróðir,” she replied quietly. Not bad, he thought to himself.

He hummed thoughtfully, “ **Sister?** ”

“Systir,” she translated.

 **“Father?”** He tested.

“Faðir,” she huffed and swept the dirt outside, “How do say; **Family**?” She surprised him with a question of her own. She hadn’t done that before.

“Skuldalið,” he offered with a grin.

“Skuldalið” she repeated with a little nod. She leant the broom up in the corner.

“Skuldalið?” He asked. Ubbe had suggested it as a topic he could use to talk to her.

“Sk..ul..da...lið?” She tried again assuming she pronounced it wrong.

He frowned in confusion, “No, tell me about your Skuldalið, what are their names?”

“Oh,” she nodded, “Skuldalið name is Mac Curitin. Faðir name is Curitin. Sons Mac. Daughters Ni,” she explained.He nodded with interest. She raised her hand above her head, indicating height, “First Bróðir, name Brennan,” she lowered her hand to her height, “Same Bróðir, name Eoin.”  
“What do you mean same?” He asked.

“Same time,” she struggled, “ **Same birth.”**  He nodded in comprehension, Eoin was her twin. She gestured to her hip, “Third Bróðir, name Connor.”

“Why can’t he walk? Why is he a cripple?” he inquired. She shrugged.

“ **Back does not connect to legs, since birth,”** she explained, “Pain, every day, every night.” He nodded, so the boy was similar but not the same.

“Systir?” he asked wondering what the curious child’s name was. Ethna smiled fondly.

“Her name Peigi,“ she smiled. She gestured to a height of her forehead, “Systir, Brennan **wife,** her name Maeve Mhic Curitin.”  He nodded and slid off his chair.

“Where?” She questioned as he began to crawl towards his room.

“I’m going bed, and you’re welcome to join me,” he smirked back at her. She stayed put with a frightened expression stuck to her face. He rolled his eyes, “It was a joke, I don’t want to repeat last time either, believe me,“ he admitted. She still stood in her place. He groaned. Not again. **“You can sleep on the other bed,”** he suggested.

“I sleep here.” Ethna pointed to the ground. He let out a frustrated huff. This was infuriating.

“No, you’re not,” he gritted. She took a step back. He pursed his lips and looked down at the ground. She was afraid. Again. Why couldn’t he do anything right? She had made him laugh this morning, they just had a pleasant conversation, why was asking her to sleep in the same room as him so difficult? Because she doesn’t want what happened last time to happen again, his mind answered him plainly. What can I do to fix that? He asked himself avoiding the simple answer.

 **“Ethna I promise It will never happen again,”** he assured.

 **“Your promise means nothing,”** she murmured so quietly he almost didn’t catch it. He bristled preparing to scream at her, even though he wasn't angry. It hurt. It was as if her tiny words had fangs. It hurt because it was true, he realised. He winced and lowered his head. He hardly thought when the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed abruptly before turning crawling off into his room.

* * *

 

He lay back on his bed cursing himself for letting himself succumb to her charm. He jumped in shock when his door creaked. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when Ethna snuck across the room and crawled under the furs of her bed. He was too shocked to smile at the small victory.

“Skuldalið?” She questioned. He snickered to himself.

“My family name is Ragnarson, My Faðir was Ragnar Lothbrok,” he boasted. He waited for a gasp of shock or a murmur of anything to indicate she heard him, but he received nothing. **“Have you not heard of my Faðir?** ”

“No,” she shrugged.  He rolled over to face her.

 **“He sacked Paris, he was king of Norway, he raided Wessex, killed by the serpents of King Aelle, surely you’ve heard of him?”** he gawked. 

**“No, time news reached Leamh, just Northmen or Danes.** **You say he was king, are you prince?”** She gasped. He chuckled at her surprise.

“Kind of, **it’s complicated** ,” he answered. She scoffed.

“Aelle is dead no? **Did you kill him?** ”

“With my brothers yes,” he answered, “ **What makes you think I did?’**

 **“You person would,”** she commented and he shrugged.

“What about your Faðir?”

“Killed,” she stated.

“By us Northmen?” He winced.

“No,” she lamented, “My Bróðirs.” He remembered back to the hall filled with corpses, her father’s must’ve been among them.

 **“Are you angry at them?** ” He wondered.

“Yes,” she admitted, **“But I forgive them**.”

 **“How do you forgive that?”**  he asked in disbelief.

“Time... Understanding,” she answered cryptically. She went silent for a while as if she were pondering something. “ **It’s complicated, does mean you are not prince because Queen Lagertha killed your mother?”**

He stiffened. Where did she hear that?

“Yes,” he answered reluctantly.

**“You want to kill Lagertha?”**

“Yes,” he resolved.

“ **I would too,** ” Ethna added. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really? Why?” He inquired.

 **“I love my mother, I would kill anyone who hurt her,”** she professed.

He snickered, “And how would you do that Ethna?”

 **“With something painful and well thought out,”** she divulged purposefully. He frowned and cast a glance at her to see only her back facing him. He sighed and rolled over to face the other wall.

“Me too,” he whispered.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this took so long. I have been very busy in term three of senior year. I cannot guarantee that the next chapter will come soon but I will do my best.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTICE  
> Also I would like to hear your opinion on an issue:  
> As you all know, I love the Mac Curitins. But unfortunately I just can't keep going back and forth from to them them in Ireland then back to Kattegat otherwise the story will go on forever. I was originally going to have a very long break from them, have them be silent until we see them again, but I thought that it was a bit sad to depart from them for sooo long. So I had an idea that I could do a small five part story to document some of their antics. So let me know in the comments if you guys would read that if I made it :)
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)


	20. Bad Omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks later and things are starting to go well for Ethna. But what do Ethna's disturbing new dreams mean for her future? Death strikes once more in Kattegat and everyone can sense there's a storm brewing. Who's blood shall be spilt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, violence, violence against pregnant women, death, murder, sacrifice, sexual references, Major character death.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTICE IN END NOTES

* * *

Days slowly blended into weeks. The leaves turned from happy green into a dull brown. The air chilled around her and made it harder and harder to wake and drag herself to Seumas’ gruelling lessons. Over time, the man decided pelting them with rocks was not going to give any consequence but bruised pupils with a deep set loathing towards their teacher. He began to teach them how to punch properly, with the thumb tucked on the outside of the closed fist. How to block by moving at the hips, rather than the elbows, taking advantage of an opponent's momentum. He drilled them, making them punch and block imaginary foes.

Ivar continued his small games and intense lessons and gradually her tongue wisened to Norse and Saxon. She found herself beginning to feel more at ease around him. Ivar now seemed to try his best to be pleasant around her, though he could only try so hard before he would get frustrated and the foul mood would return. She became better at finding her way, remembering names and faces. Esegar showed her the best places to set eel traps and Ruth showed her the places where herbs and mushrooms grew. She healed small scrapes, cuts, bruises and sprains of her fellow daors and slowly her hair climbed towards its original length. Unfortunately, the dreams also returned.

Most of them were mixtures of dreams she had dreamt before. However, more and more often she would see Maeve crying and screaming as she would stand frozen, listening Maeve heave and a baby squeal into the night. She would watch the buzzing midwives murmur and prod at her. Each time they would ask her something incomprehensible and Maeve would reply whispering ‘Ethna’ before closing her eyes and slumping. Constantly, The Woman kept coming to her, speaking her riddles, warning her over and over. It frustrated her to no end. Each morning she would jolt awake, tears welling in her eyes, feeling so unbelievably helpless.

Amongst the old dreads of battlefields, stags and faces of her family a new sequence emerged. She lurked in the forest, on looking as a white doe grazed peacefully on the banks of a river. She swallowed when a large black she-wolf stalked it from the distance. It’s muzzle pulled back in a snarl and It’s eyes gleaming green in the rays of the setting sun. She tried to call out a warning to the doe, but her mouth was clamped shut by an invisible force. Her eyes widened in horror when the wolf pounced on the doe. The two creatures struggled, but eventually the doe let out pitiful cries as the she-wolf tore its stomach out. She tried and turn away from the sight but her eyes were glued on the gruesome spectacle.  In the end, the she-wolf lifted its gore coated head back and howled in triumph. That was the dream that she had had earlier this morning. It fogged up her brain and made it hard to concentrate on what Ivar was trying to tell her. She had not even realized she had zoned out until his spoon smacked her forehead.

* * *

 

“Ow,” she winced, “Sorry Ivar, I did not hear you.”

“Ethna what the Hel is wrong with you? I’m speaking to you!” He fumed. She had started to space out, often. It was infuriating and slightly concerning.

“I want you to accompany me today,” he informed her.

She frowned, “All day?”

He smirked. It was the first time he had asked her to accompany him somewhere in public. It would be the first of many, he hoped.

“Until I dismiss you, it could very well be all day if I wished it,” he dictated

“What about chores and dinner?” Ethna questioned. He glared.

“What about them? Margrethe can cook just fine, you are my slave, not my brothers’, you do what I say,” he ranted, “When I have no need for you by my side, you may go and attend to whatever it is you have to do.”

Ethna bit her lip but nodded, “Where are we going?”

“Pass me those,” he pointed to his crutches leaning up near the door. She sighed and fetched them. He caught her examining them curiously as she handed them over. He strained as he pulled himself upright to stand almost level with her. She stared at him expectantly he just grinned, “You’ll see,” he teased.

He dragged himself along while she dawdled beside him. If he wasn’t so focused on not falling over he would have taken his time to watch the way her hips swayed when she walked. It was something he quite enjoyed watching while she scuttled about the house. He paused when she suddenly halted and stared at something, he followed her gaze to spot The Seer mulling about near a fish stall.

“Who?” She murmured. He chuckled at her reaction, it was similar to most people's but her look suggested a more curious reason for her question rather than disgust.

“That is The Seer, he speaks for the gods,” Ivar explained.

Ethna nodded, “He speak for Odin?” He nodded and felt a swell of pride at her question. She was learning well.

As they got closer The Seer’s marred features and sealed eyelids turned in their direction. Ethna jolted when the seer gripped her shoulder. She stared into her face as Ivar looked on in shock. Mere seconds later The Seer released Ethna and began a low throaty chuckle. Ivar nudged her urging her to keep walking. Ethna turned over her shoulder as she stridded away, frowning at the laughing and coughing man.

“What is funny?” She whispered to him.

“You, apparently,” Ivar grimaced. If The Seer laughed at someone, it never was a good omen.

They arrived at the blacksmith's hut and the smell of smoke, iron and sweat greeted them.

“Good morning Ivar, what can I do for you?” Ulf greeted while wiping soot off his hands on a rag. His eyes traveled up to him then across to Ethna and scrunched up in confusion. Ivar craned his head over his shoulder to see Ethna cowering behind him. He frowned and turned his attention back to Ulf.

“I would like to smelt some silver,” Ivar said depositing a small pouch on the workbench.

“What did you have in mind?” Ulf leaned in intently.

“Oh no, I wish to do this myself,” he insisted and produced three silver cross pendants from the pouch, “I need to use the furnace and the moulds.” Ulf huffed, upset that he was not going to get as much silver out of this as he wanted. Ivar flipped him a coin and smiled smugly.    
“You know the rules, you make a mess, you clean it up,” Ulf grumbled as he went back to fixing a shield.

He eagerly climbed onto a stool and beckoned Ethna over. She had a scowl of disapproval covering her face as she stared at the little crosses. He rolled his eyes. Why would she care, she was not a… He stopped himself. Was she a Christian? He never saw one of those churches in her village, there were no priests running about either.

“Why does this upset you?” He tilted his head at her.

She hung her head, “Just metal,” she pointed to the crosses, “People, you kill them, they do no wrong,” she tried to explain. He placed them in the furnace and scowled at her.

“Christians are filthy liars, they say one thing and do another, they poison everyone's mind, pretend to be kind only to stab you in the back later,” he glared at her.

“That is bad people, not God,” Ethna answered quietly.

He stared at her incredulously, “Are you a Christian?”

She hesitated then shook her head, “In Eire, gods are mixed, Christian and no, Leamh no Christian but Monks visit, christians taught me write and read, taught Leamh better farming and market, taught me Christ, good people,” she explained.He snorted. If she truly was a Christian she wouldn’t know any other gods, the Christians would have erased them, he decided to test that theory.

“What gods do your people worship then?”

“Christ, Bridgid, Sionann, Cliodhna, Lir, Maca, many more,” she listed as she watched the crosses melt into a shiny sludge, a distant look on her face. He studied her carefully. He wanted to interrogate her further but he was interrupted by a cacophony outside. Ulf leaned his head out the window then dropped his tools on the bench and swore as he ran out the door. Ivar dragged himself off his stool and crawled out into the street to see what the kerfuffle was about.

* * *

 

People were murmuring crowding around a body on the ground. He brushed people out of his way as he crawled through the throng. He stared wide eyed with shock at the body.

“Let me pass,” Ethna stated, “Healer, I am healer,” she pleaded and pushed past the spectators. She knelt down next to the man and stuck a finger under his nose sensing for a trace of breath and surveyed the his body looking for a cause.

“What happened?” He asked no one in particular.

“He just fell,” cried one woman.

“The gods are angry!” One man lamented.

Ethna turned to Ivar and shook her head, “He is… ” Ethna and half the crowd shrieked when The Seer’s gnarled hands sprung to life and latched onto Ethna’s shoulders.

“Emerald gaze from the emerald isle was foretold to be my bane,” he chuckled weakly, “Oh, what fun the gods will have watching the torrent of blood that will follow, I only wish I’d live to see it.” His grip slackened and he let out a last muffled croak and stilled. Ethna caught her breath and scrambled back.  

“Move!” A voice demanded, “Make way!” Astrid barged through the mass with Helfrim and another shieldmaiden in tow. Helfrim caught his eye and shared a worried glance.

“What happened?” Astrid questioned shooting a poisoned glance at Ivar.

“The Ancient One is dead,” Ulf stated in shock.

* * *

 

“This time, this time for sure,” she muttered to herself and she ducked behind a tree narrowly avoiding a stone. After one too many knocks to the head with the irritating pebbles, Ethna finally understood the method to Seumas’ madness. He wanted to test their resourcefulness and her new strategy would either make or break that theory. She pulled out the small leather contraption she had managed to create from scrounging left over rabbit’s hide. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the smooth stone. She peeped out from behind the tree and spied Seumas stalking toward the log which Esegar lay behind. She slipped her stone into the pocket, slipped her finger into the loop and stepped back behind the tree’s cover. She swung the sling over her head and groaned when the stone slipped out onto the ground. Hastily she fumbled it back into the pocket and tried again, swinging the sling faster and harder above her head. She used her other hand to sight Seumas’ back and loosed the projectile.

Seumas yelped and swore. Ethna’s jaw dropped. She actually hit him. She did it. It worked.  She smiled to herself, but not for long. Seumas glared at her and strode towards her.

 **“I’m sorry, I did not me…”** He started to chuckle, then he roared with laughter. He wrapped his trunk like arms around her and lifted her off the ground in a bone crushing hug.

 **“Finally!”** He exclaimed, **“I was beginin’ to think ya both wer a pair of ninnies!”**

 **“But.. but.. that’s against the rules!”** Esegar piped up from behind his log.

“ **Tell me** _pìos cac gòracht,_ **to what rules are ya referrin’ ta?”** Seumas smirked.

Esegar quirked an eyebrow, **“Good form?”**

 **“Ah, ya talk of honour boy?”** Seumas chuckled with disdain.

 **“Yes,”** he nodded, **“I wish to be an honourable man.”**

 **“Let me tell ya somthin’ boy, and listen well,”** Seumas rested his hands on Esegar’s shoulders, **“There’s no honour in battle, it‘s life and death with cause, nothin’ more, nothin’ less,”** Seumas warned, **“There are plenty of times and places to be an honourable man, but when someone threatens ya or the ones ya love, they aren’t gonna give a pig’s arse about yer rules,”** he stepped back and looked at them both, “ **Ya both got ta learn ta think unnaturally, be resourceful, be prepared and be unpredictable, playin’ by rules make ya predictable, and predictable is another word for dead.”** The students both nodded. Seumas raised Ethna’s hand so he could examine her weapon. He smiled at her, **“Good work wee shite, now ya master yer talent until they lay on the cold Earth with a stone in their skull they never saw comin’.”**

* * *

 

“Ethna!” Ardney exclaimed and tackled her in a teary embrace. Ethna had to stumble a few steps to gain her balance so she didn’t fall over with her basket of eggs.

 **“What has you in such a state Ardney?”** Ethna panicked. If someone dared to raise so much a s a finger… Why is she smiling? Ethna stopped herself confused.

“ **Praise him Ethna! He has answered my prayers!** ” Ardney babbled.  
**“What has happened?”** Ethna queried. Ardney beamed and wiped tears of joy from her eyes.

 **“I believe it is all because of Seumas’ and my child!** ” Ardney gushed, **“My master must have found out that I am with child, he wishes to meet me later today to discuss the terms of my freedom, but not just mine, he wishes to bargain for Seumas’! Ethna we may be getting married!”** Ethna smiled wider than she had when Ardney had told her that she was with child.

 **“Thank God, there is kindness in this land after all,”** she praised and wrapped her arms around Ardney in a tight hug.

 **“God is good Ethna, he will always be faithful to those who don’t forget him in this misery,”** Ardney advised.

“Ethna!” Ivar called from the house, “What’s taking you so long?”

“I am coming!” she shouted, **“Good day Ardney, I hope it goes well.”**

* * *

 

“Who was that?” Ivar interrogated. He watched her prepare the eggs for breakfast.

“Ardney, she is very kind, she is my friend,” Ethna answered. He hadn’t really thought Ethna had any friends here. That was good he told himself, it meant she was adapting to her new home. There was a ruckus as Hvitserk stumbled through the door.

“You won’t believe this!” He announced. Ubbe and Margrethe poked their head out of their bedroom.

“Won’t believe what?”Ubbe asked with a yawn.

“There’s going to be a sacrifice! Lagertha thinks The Seer’s death is a bad omen…”

“Of course it’s a bad omen, her arse is sitting where it doesn’t belong,” Ivar interrupted.

“The Seer’s slave has offered herself to be sacrificed then buried with him,” Hvitserk continued ignoring him, “Lucky old man, It’s such a shame there will be no pre-ritual, the pair on that woman are…” His eyes darted to Margrethe's glaring ones, “...So small...they can not… even.. be compared to yours, Margrethe,” he saved. Ivar felt the excitement rush through his veins. A sacrifice. A human sacrifice. He never felt the gods closer than when he watched them drain the life of a mortal.

“When is the sacrifice?” Ubbe asked.

“Tomorrow night when the moon is full, that is also when they are going to bury the Seer, afterwards there will be a feast,” Hvitserk reported sitting down to his breakfast. Ubbe pulled out a chair for Margrethe before sitting down. Ethna shuffled around the table serving the boiled eggs to everyone. Ivar noticed the sullen look on her face as she once again stood in the corner holding a pitcher. He took a deep breath.

“Ethna you may sit down, we’ve talked about this,” he sighed. She hesitantly took a seat next to him. Something was wrong. She wasn’t like this yesterday, and she was happy this morning, what had he done now? His mood soured. He tried to distract himself and hang on to the thought of tomorrows celebrations.

* * *

 

That night he sat on his bed and untied his bracers and moved to undo the straps that bound his legs. He lifted his head when the door creaked and Ethna padded into the room.

“Do you want help?” She murmured. He nodded for the first time and leaned back on his arms, observing the way her fingers worked at the knots. He gripped the furs under him and held back the urge to release her bound and braided dark hair and run his fingers through it.

“Tomorrow, the Seer, **Funeral**?” She asked slipping the straps from his legs.

“Yes,” he informed. She deposited the straps on one of the wooden clothes chests and sat on her own bed. She slipped off her boots and looked up at him hesitantly.

“What does ‘sacrifice’ mean?” She asked in a small voice. His head shot up. She had understood his conversation with his brothers. He did not expect her to be able to follow along with conversations yet, it seemed she was a fast learner.

“It is a gift for the gods, to ensure they are content and grant us their blessings, you would know what it is, your people would have it too,” he explained, “Also, the slave wishes to accompany her master to the afterlife, through a sacrifice she can.” Ethna still had the same forlorn expression. It then suddenly struck him why she had been so despondent today.

“Slave die,” she concluded.

“But she wishes to, it is a great honour,” he insisted laying back and pulling his furs over him. She sighed and lay back in her bed staring at the ceiling.

“Do you want me to do?” She broke the silence.

“Do what?” He asked perplexed.

“When you die, do you expect I die, go with you?” She rephrased.

He turned in his bed and looked at her in surprise. He was shocked. She wanted to know if he expected her to follow him to Valhalla. It was a display of loyalty far deeper than any he had felt or experienced before as he met her green gaze. Though she seemed appalled by the idea, she cared enough about his wishes to ask what he wanted. He smiled, but it didn't last long. He was a prince and a warrior, if she wished to follow him she would have to go through the traditional pre-ritual.

They would fill her with mead for a week and almost every man in the village would have his way with her before the angel of death finally slit her throat. He scowled. She wouldn’t want that. He didn’t want that. She was his, nobody else’s. The very thought of another man touching her made his blood boil. If he would have to wait for her in Valhalla, he would.

“No Ethna, I wouldn’t want that from you, if I die, I will leave you to Ubbe, he will look after you,” he informed her.

She nodded, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He frowned.

“Not leaving me to Hvitserk,” she joked. He let out a small chuckle and Ethna followed in quiet laughter as he lay back and closed his eyes, wishing the beautiful sound would come closer and lay beside him.

* * *

 

 _“Good morning Ruth,”_ Ethna greeted. Ruth looked up from her work and smiled at her.

 _“And a good morning to you royal breakfast maker,”_ she smirked. Ethna shook her head with a laugh.

 _“I do more than that, if you give me nickname, make it good,_ ” she reprimanded.

“ _Oh, I’m sure you do more than just that,”_ Ruth teased and Ethna turned scarlet.

She cleared her throat, _“Where is Ardney?”_ Ethna needed to ask her how the meeting went, she needed to celebrate with her.

 _“If she saw her master last night then I very much doubt we will be seeing her until mid morning, even if he was going to set her free, he wouldn’t do it without properly saying goodbye,”_ Ruth seethed. Ethna swallowed and nodded in comprehension

 _“Thank you, Ruth, I see you later, I got washing to do,”_ she excused and turned into Runi. “ _Sorry,”_ she murmured an apology.

Runi just grinned, _“You will be,”_ she threatened and stormed off.

* * *

 

Ethna crouched by the river and scrubbed at one of Margrethe's dresses. She hummed to herself and took in her surroundings. She’d never admit it out aloud, but Kattegat was a beautiful hell. A frown crossed her brow when she eyed a pond-muck-covered log bobbing near the river bend ahead of her.  She did a double take. It was a strange familiar shape. She set Margrethe’s dress to the side and slowly approached the log. As she got closer to it she froze. A scream escaped as a strangled sob. She fell to her knees drenching her dress in the frigid water as she shakily grasped what, to her horror, was not a log.

“God no, please no,” she stuttered.  She tugged the body towards her and wailed mournfully as she flipped it over staring at the lifeless face. Cold, glazed, brown eyes stared at her in fear. Auburn hair, darkened with water, drifted around her. Her body was battered and her clothes torn, but the fatal wound; a deep gaping cut to her lower stomach. Ethna screamed as tears poured from her eyes.  

The world fell away and the formless voice whispered around her, “The woman you hold so dear will die a death caused by her babe, and her death shall seal your fate by fire or ice.”

She sobbed and shook as she realised much too late that the prophecy was never about Maeve; It was about Ardney.  She howled into the sky in agony as rage surged through her body. Someone had done this, someone had ended two lives with one blow. She screamed like a banshee not caring if anyone heard her grief. She vowed through hot tears, then and there, that she would find who did this. And Lord have mercy on their poor soul when she did, for she would have vengeance. She would have justice. But for now, she wept and wailed in the cold water, cradling the closest person she had to a mother in years.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, believe me, I am as upset as you, but here is where the story really takes off, and Ethna just needed that little push. I am still in the midst of exams and I shall do my best to makes sure next chapter is out at a reasonable time.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTICE I would like to hear your opinion on an issue, I didn't get many responses for this and I think it's because no one read last chapters notes:  
> As you all know, I love the Mac Curitins. But unfortunately, I just can't keep going back and forth from to them in Ireland then back to Kattegat otherwise the story will go on forever. I was originally going to have a very long break from them, have them be silent until we see them again, but I thought that it was a bit sad to depart from them for sooo long. So I had an idea that I could do a small five part story to document some of their antics. So let me know in the comments if you guys would read that if I made it :)
> 
> Also, I started doing character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, I have a specific day I answer different characters, but I can save your questions up and the character can answer them as soon as possible on their allocated day. Ethna and Brennan have answer some questions and you can check it out with the tag [Character Mail](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character+mail)
> 
>    
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)


	21. Two Funerals and Three Prophecies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two funerals with stark contrasts are conducted under Kattegat’s full moon. While Ivar is celebrating the life of a man barely known by any, Ethna mourns the loss of the woman dearest to her and many others. But, there is change in the air. New prophecies are spoken about a time ahead, plans are made and relationships are deepened. However, Ethna has present things on her mind; there is a wereguild to be paid, and she has every intention to make certain it is paid, in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, violence, sacrifice, sexual references, alcohol abuse.
> 
> You’ll might noticed I added this work to a series, I have my reasons ;) So you might wanna keep an eye out for a certain companion piece I have in the making called "The Journey of the Common Lords " that should come out soon.

* * *

The beating of drums held him in their snare as he watched Lagertha lead the young woman up the platform. Around him, the buzzing intensified as the large curved blade was offered to her. His pulsing veins caused a deafening roar in the dead silence.

“Do you wish to be offered to the gods? Are you here of your own volition?” Lagertha questioned as she paced around the woman. The thrall placed her hands against two wooden pillars.

“It is my duty and my honour,” the thrall replied proudly, “I shall join my master and the gods.” Ivar inhaled sharply. Such a display had his mind reeling. He could feel it, the gods were close.

“Odin, receive this gift!” Lagertha proclaimed as she lined the blade up. He held his breath as she drew a line, opening the woman’s throat. The thrall let out a grunt then silenced herself. She looked up over Lagertha’s shoulder.

“I see them,” she gurgled weakly with a smile. Ivar let out a muffled gasp as the blood began to spurt from her throat.

The thrall slowly crumpled to the wooden platform and her life force emptied into a stone basin. The drums began to beat again as men carried the thrall off to be buried with The Seer and his other possessions. He staggered his breathing and shifted to placate the uncomfortable tightness in his breeches as the bowl of the thrall’s blood was passed around. The gods had blessed him. Tonight he could bed Ethna. If she allowed it, his mind taunted. He brushed it off. She would, surely tonight the gods influenced her too.  He grinned widely as the basin was offered to him and dipped his hands in the ichor, spreading it across his face with reverence. With ecstasy, he turned to offer the bowl to the subject of his lustful thoughts. His high immediately fled him when he was met with empty space.    

* * *

 

The procession marched through the woods under torch light in utter silence. Grim expressions and the remnants of tears were worn by all. She knew he would be furious when he realised she had snuck away from him, but she didn’t care. She felt nothing. No fear. No shame. Only grief and the numbness it brought. She had long since run out of tears to give and her eyes itched. Yet, she continued to march. Ethna tailed behind the four men that carried Ardney, pale, cold, and slung in her goatskin bedding. It was all the comfort they could find to offer her.

Ethna wrapped her cloak around herself tighter and pulled the hood up. Her fingers tangled in the cord of her improvised crucifix she wove from flax to create Saint Brigid’s cross.

The daors of The Eastern Slave House came to a halt in front of a gaping hole in the earth that Esegar and some others had dug earlier this evening. Carefully, Ardney was lowered into her final resting place. Seumas was a mess of a man. His face was splotched and weary. His hand shook as he handed his torch to Ruth.

 _“Does anyone have any words to say?”_ A young man uttered.  Seumas trudged forward and knelt next to her grave, stroking her head one last time.

 _“I wish I could say I’d see ya again, but I doubt yer God would let a foolish pagan like me in,”_ he strained, _“Enjoy your freedom darlin’,  be happy and raise our child up there, tell ‘em about me,”_ he smiled briefly through his sorrow before the tears returned, _“Ardney… just know…”_ his lip quivered, _“... Ya were the best part of my miserable life, I don’t know if I can ever feel joy now ya’ve taken back the small amount ya gave me, goodbye my darlin’,”_ he brought her cold hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.

One by one everyone farewelled the gentlest soul they had ever known. Esegar bawled and whimpered out that he loved her and that she was the only mother he ever had. Ruth solemnly said goodbye and thanked her for offering her kindness and understanding when no one else did. Similar lamentations were uttered until only Ethna had not said a word.

Slowly, she approached and knelt above the sleeping woman. She carefully lifted Ardney’s auburn crown and delicately slipped the small crucifix over her head and brought it to rest above her breasts.

“I have only known you for a little more than a month, but in that short time you managed to remind me what it was like to be loved, to be cared for, what it was like to have a mother, and now...” she croaked and choked back a sob, “I feel the pain of losing a mother again and... I don't want to let you go too,” she sniffed. Taking a long inhale she took one last look at Ardney and felt the rage surge again. This wasn’t fair. She leant closer and gripped Ardney’s shoulder, “I will find who took you from us, this I swear before God,” she assured in a whisper before stepping back. With a sad nod, Seumas gestured to the others and many pitched in and filled the hole. One by one, each trudged back towards Kattegat and returned to the state of inhumanity that bound them to their master’s, not as people, but as objects.

* * *

 

Ivar was in a foul mood. Just when he thought she had gotten over this habit of running off, she deceived him and left when he least expected it.  He was so intent on glaring a hole in the table he didn’t notice Runi trying to get his attention until she tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?” He snapped at her. Runi shrunk back.

“Sorry, I did not wish to disturb you master Ivar, but Helfrim asked me to give her report,” she stammered.  Sighing, he turned to her as she took a seat beside him.

“Let’s hear it then,” he encouraged with a tilt of his head.

“Her relatives have agreed to meet with you, and even better, they want to fight with you, and they are riding here,” she informed him. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. They were eager to fight, that either meant they were bored, or they wanted something from him.

“What are their terms?” He asked taking a sip of mead.

“They want to meet with you and Helfrim to discuss terms, Helfrim suggested that you and your brothers could take a hunting trip to the cabin this week, meanwhile Helfrim could be granted leave by Lagertha to visit her relatives, she will meet them and lead them to Thor’s rock by frjá-dagr, then you break off from your brothers and meet them there,” she regaled. He smirked, Helfrim was quite ingenuitive.

“Tell your master that is a fine plan, I will let her know by tomorrow if it will work,” he nodded. Runi bowed her head briefly and scampered off.  

Surveying crowd he noticed there were a few men resighting odes to The Seer with a small crowd gathered around them. He spotted Ubbe merrily throwing knives at a target with other warriors as Margrethe hung from his arm as if she were attached to him. Hvitserk was in a corner exaggerating his exploits to a few shieldmaidens. Rolling his eyes he turned his head to the door and his breath caught in his throat when he spied a familiar figure slink through it.  He was worried he'd have to go look for her, but here she was, returning back to him. She picked up a jug and stood off to the side as if nothing had happened. He growled as soon as a man beckoned her over to refill his horn.

“Aren’t you the one we should be thanking for this?” The man laughed as he asked her. She just trained her eyes on the floor in front of her and filled the horn. “I heard The Seer’s heart stopped when he saw you, I can tell you he wouldn't have been the first,” the man jeered and the rest of his table oohed and snickered. Ivar’s hand tightened around a  disguarded carving knife. Ethna finished refilling the horn and turned to leave, but the man’s hand shot out snapping around her wrist.

"Please let go of me,” she muttered and tugged to get free. The man mocked her.

“What? Do you think you’re too good for me thrall? Hmm? You are nothing, you have to do what any freeman tells you, and I tell you to come sit on my lap here,” he snarled. Ethna looked at the man with absolute loathing and the surrounding table laughed. Ivar had had quite enough of this. He stabbed the knife into his table with a resounding thunk. Heads turned his way as he smiled dangerously at the man.

“You must think yourself so high and mighty to order my thrall around as if she is yours,” he seethed. The man dropped Ethna’s wrist as if it were hot coals and she retreated from the table.

“My deepest apologies… I did not know she was your property… I ...” he stuttered.

“Be careful peasant, if there is one thing that I can't stand it is ignorance,” Ivar warned, “If anyone mistreats my thrall, I can assure you her wereguild will be worth more than your miserable lives,” he snarled. They all nodded adamantly. He growled, if they didn’t know she was his, then others wouldn’t know either. He needed to fix that. Ethna was his, and he needed to make that clear.

“Ethna, come here,” he beckoned. She sighed and paced over and filled his horn. “Where were you hmm?” He gritted.  She just continued to stare at the floor. “Did you think you could run away?” She shook her head dismally. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” He ordered. She looked up at him and he was met by her tired, red splotched face and bloodshot eyes. She had been crying. His brow crinkled, did the sacrifice really upset her that much? He had thought she was stronger than that.

“Girl! Mead!” Some man shouted from his seat nearby. Ivar snarled and snatched her wrist posessively.

“She is busy!” He proclaimed and tugged her onto his lap. She let out a surprised yelp and the hall boomed with laughter. He fastened his arms around her waist and settled her on top of his thighs.  
“Ivar…” Ethna began with uncertainty and tried to worm her way out of his grip.

“Shh pet, sit still,” he paused, surprised at his own choice of word, but he continued in a low whisper, “Think about it, you either sit here with me, or you can sit with them as they feel you up, understand?” She slackened in his arms.

“I understand,” she nodded.

“Good, now, why don’t you tell where you snuck off to?” He leant into her and hissed in her ear.

“Funeral,” she answered.

“Liar,” he sang with a smirk, watching the eyes glancing his direction, smiling at the jealousy and interest they held. He unwound one of his arms and brushed her braid over her other shoulder, letting his fingers explore the pleasant texture.

“No, different funeral,” she sighed. He frowned. Before he could ask further, Hvitserk slid himself down next to him and clapped his shoulder cheerfully.

“She looks a bit stiff there brother, perhaps some mead would loosen her up,” he suggested quietly with a cheeky grin.

* * *

 

The night had come to a slow halt as people keeled over one by one. While he and Ubbe stayed and talked with old friends, Ivar had sulked off a few hours ago. Ethna had refused to drink anything he gave her and remained unresponsive to him. Eventually, he gave up trying and went home. Ethna had also evaporated, excusing herself to assist clearing up not long after Ivar left. Now that Margarethe had just passed out he believed it was finally time to go home.

“I think we should call it a night Hvitserk,” Ubbe read his mind and nodded to their snoozing woman.  Ubbe scooped up Margrethe and tiptoed over the sleeping masses and Hvitserk tailed behind. Exiting the hall they heard raised voices and merry laughs outside. He turned his head in confusion. How could they still be drinking at this hour? He found his answer when he saw exactly who it was who had the mead. Thralls. A large group of them. But there was one individual who stuck out to him. Ubbe stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted who Hvitserk was staring at. Ethna was among them, though, she wasn’t exactly joyous.  

She was yelling in her own language, spitting and swatting at another woman while an older man was holding her back, copping quite a beating himself.

 _“You’re a bitch and your mother was one too, I’ll claw your eyes out!”_ She switched language mid-sentence, “Let go of me Seumas!”

“Lass calm down, the drink was suppos’d to relax ya, ye’re not in yer right mind!” Seumas struggled.

“My mind is right! She said I would be sorry, and now I know why! Murderer!” Ethna screamed.  
“I didn’t kill the whore, but seeing you this angry, Ethna, it makes me wish I had!” Runi smirked.

“Yer a fuckin’ piece of shit!” Seumas screamed and let her lose. Ethna flew through the air and pinned Runi down with ease. While other thralls roared and cheered, Runi screamed and flailed. Ethna screeched and wound back her fists.  Hvitserk ran to break it up, but Ethna managed to get a few swings into Runi’s face before Hvitserk managed to wrench her off the startled woman.

“Right Ethna, that’s enough,” he commanded.

“Same for all of you, I imagine the queen wouldn’t take lightly to her mead being stolen,” Ubbe warned and the crowd grumbled and dissipated. Ethna stopped struggling and turned to face him and Ubbe.

 _“Oh not you two,”_ she whined, _“Go away!”_  

“I think it’s time you went home to bed...” Ubbe began.

 **“I won’t bed any of you bastards,”** she laughed. Ubbe frowned and Hvitserk suppressed a giggle.

“That’s not what I sai…”

“Yes, yes, Ivar, well here what I say about that,” she passionately flipped two fingers at them, “I’ll fuck Ivar Ragnarson when my own crippled brother stands and welcomes me back to Eire with and embrace,” she proclaimed. Ubbe gaped in shock and Hvitserk lost it.  He doubled over and laughed his lungs out.

“You think this is funny Hvitserk son of Ragnar, I assure you the times I speak of are no laughing matter,” she chastised. Hvitserk stopped laughing. He had never heard Ethna speak so fluently or seriously. He glanced at his brother to see Ubbe warily glance back at him.

“I prophesy these three things this night: Death shall knock thrice before he enters, The Raven will win the battle but The White Stag will bathe in the spoils of war, and they who crawl shall rise above kings and hold a wooden throne with strength four thousand strong,” she declared. The brothers looked at each other slightly spooked. What was that? He wanted to brush it off as drunken nonsense, but the clarity she spoke with made it impossible to know exactly what to make of it.

“Alright, I think you’ve had a bit too much, time for bed,” he muttered and slung her over his shoulder as she cursed at him.

* * *

 

Ivar lifted his head at the creak of his door and discerned Hvitserk’s silhouette in the darkness.

“I got a present for you Ivar,” he joked.

“What the hel have you done to her?” He interrogated his brother once he spotted the slumped figure over his shoulder.

“Nothing, some of the thralls swiped some mead and decided to drown their woes, be grateful she didn’t take the mead you offered her,“ he paced over to his bed, “She is not a pleasant drunk.”

“What are you…” he didn’t get to finish as Hvitserk unceremoniously dumped Ethna on his bed.

“Have fun,” he winked and retreated from the room.

“No, come back, pick her up…” Ivar sputtered at the closed door. He huffed and looked at Ethna as if she were a wild creature. What was he supposed to do? He wanted to hold her to his chest and let his hands wander across her, but he knew Ethna probably would not consent to that. She would be angry the moment she woke up and he would lose the small amount of trust he had managed to gain with her. Oh, the gods were cruel. They granted his wish to have her in his bed tonight, but they mocked him by taking a very literal approach to answering his prayers.

He observed Ethna’s awkward position and sighed. Tentatively, he manoeuvred her to lay comfortably next to him. He lifted the furs to slip over her and she groaned and stirred. He froze. She shifted and lifted her head in confusion and turned to him.

“Ivaarrrrr what’re you dooooin’ in my bed?” She yawned. He stifled a chuckle.

“Actually, you’re in mine,” he informed her.  She swivelled her head around and looked at the bed on the other side of the room then back at him in disbelief.

“I would not do such a thing,” she announced and jabbed a finger at the tip of his nose.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” he chuckled. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, “Tomorrow is not going to be fun for you,” he stated matter of factly.

“Why?” Ethna asked from next to him.

“Well, for one, you’ll be so hungover you’d make the gods proud, as well as that I have a task for you as punishment,” he dictated.

“Punishment? For what?”  Ethna groaned.

“You snuck off from me at the funeral, you stole mead and got drunk, of course I am going to make your life hel tomorrow,” he promised, irked by her ignorance.

 **“Pfft, I wish you good luck then as my life is already hell, I doubt it could get much worse,”** she scoffed.  He bristled at that. What did she mean her life was already hel?

“Tell me how your life is ‘hel’, I look after you, I treat you well, I don’t beat you, I respect you!” He argued. Things took an ugly turn when she rolled over and stared at him with blazing eyes.

 **“My life is hell because of you! You took me from my family and my home! You destroyed my village and future! And now, one of the only people who made this hell bearable is dead,  Ardney was murdered, and without her I am empty!”** She seethed and rolled over with her back to him.

Was she really this unhappy? Was this how she saw him? Of course it was. What she said was true, he had stolen her for his own selfish gain. She hated him while he loved her, but that was not enough.  Every day she hid this sorrow and mourning under a blank face and a distant smile. It appeared the potion of truth had done its work, and its damage. He could hear her breath wheeze and her nose sniffle. In the darkness, he could also make out the outline of her form quivering.

His throat went dry, “I am sorry for your loss,” he consoled, not really knowing what else to do.

“I don’t need you sorry, I need who killed her sorry,” she snivelled.

“I’m sure the wereguild will be paid…” he began.

 **“She was worth more than any silver or gold!”** She wailed. He stiffened. He had said those words before back when Alle thought he could simply pay his father's worth. **“You have no idea what it's like to be so thirsty for vengeance, but denied it.”** She didn’t know that he, in fact, knew exactly how that felt. He felt it every day as Lagertha sat on his mother’s throne and ate in his hall. He, however, was doing something about it, Ethna could do nothing, once a wereguild was paid for the thrall the matter was over. If no freeman cared, it didn’t matter in the eyes of the law. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if there were words to say.

He gently reached out and touched her upper arm. Surprisingly, she didn’t shy away or flinch. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around her torso. She still didn’t protest. With a little more confidence, he slid his other arm under her and carefully pulled her till her back met his chest. She continued to sniffle but she relaxed and leant back into his embrace, letting her hands trace across his arms lazily till she drifted off. He wished this would last for longer than tonight, but he knew that this was a moment of weakness for her. In the morning, it would all be over. “You are wrong, I know exactly what it’s like,” he whispered to her before shutting his eyes drifting into the comfort and warmth she gave him.

* * *

 

She grumbled and groaned as she trudged to the location Ivar had specified. That miserable bastard was right, she would not enjoy today in the slightest. She wanted to strangle Hvitserk. She vowed never to let herself be so out of control ever again. Firstly, she had woken up with a splitting headache and a body firmly attached to her. After that, Ivar was not in a good mood as he was ‘rudely awakened’. Secondly, Margrethe had ripped into her about being so hungover that she couldn’t rise early enough to prepare breakfast, she wanted to strangle that hypocritical tart too. But by far the worst thing to happen today was Ivar’s punishment.

Her head pounded in time with her heart as she neared the stables.

“It’s just an animal, it can’t eat you,” she exhaled and picked up the shovel from outside the stall that housed the white beast. The horse whinnied startling Ethna as she edged towards it, shovel held defensively in front of her. “Look on the bright side Ethy, if the stupid beast tramples you, you’ve got a better place to go,” she consoled herself. The horse snorted in reply. “Shut up!” She ordered and began shovelling the creature’s muck.  The horse snickered at her. “Well, you know what?  You cannot be a horse because you’re an ass,” she spat as if berating the horse somehow boosted her confidence, “You're such an ass that I am going to call you Coilean.” The horse looked her square in the eye and defecated. She cursed and glared at him “I can see why you're Ivar’s horse,” she muttered, warily stepping toward the creature.

* * *

 

She smelt terrible. I need to bath, she thought to herself after she finished shovelling the last of the manure. Puffing she leant against the fence, nursed her head and stretched. As her mind came back from the alcohol fuelled fuzz she finally understood why Runi could not be Ardney’s killer. For one, she was not covered in blood yesterday morning. Her mind reasoned that Runi could have killed Ardney at night, since Ardeny did not return to the slave house, however, there was another detail that debunked that theory; The prophecy. It had given her a clue. Whoever killed Ardney wanted the child dead more than Ardney. Runi may have hated Ardney enough to kill her, but she had no reason to kill the child. It left Ethna with no suspects and a strange question; who would want Ardney’s child dead? She was at a loss. Shaking her head she looked down the small road and saw two dogs tracking a scent. A bitch must be in heat, she thought to herself. She chuckled as the dogs began quarrelling. The poor beasts were drawn to the scent like a moth to flame or wolves to a carcass. She stopped her line of thought as an idea emerged from the darkest part of her mind.

Wolves were not all too different from dogs, they would be drawn to scents and scraps too. It was crazy, it was audacious, yet fool proof. Seumas always said to be unpredictable, this was about as unpredictable as it got. If she succeeded, no one would suspect a thing. It was the perfect plan, all she needed was time and the person responsible for this. Without hesitation, she dropped the shovel and sprinted for the slave house to find Seumas. With patience and cunning, she would thirst for vengeance no longer.  

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll might noticed I added this work to a series, I have my reasons ;) So you might wanna keep an eye out for a certain companion piece I have in the making called "The Journey of the Common Lords " that should come out soon. 
> 
> Also, I started doing character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag [Character Mail](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character+mail)
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)


	22. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Ethna, Ruth and Seumas hatch a plot to avenge their friend Ardney's death, Ivar plans to travel to meet Helfrim's mysterious relatives under the guise of a hunting trip with his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, violence, sexual references.
> 
> You may have noticed I added this work to a series, If you want to check up on the Mac Curitins you can read the first chapter of the companion piece, [ The Journey of the Common Lords](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11994534/chapters/27136305)

* * *

After washing the muck from her in the communal tub, Ethna found the man she was looking for in a heap by the door, asleep and reeking of ale.

“ _Seumas, wake up,”_ Ethna prodded her teacher with her foot. “ _Seumas I have a plan…”_

“ _Let me try,”_ Ruth suggested walking up behind her. Ethna turned in surprise and watched with horror as she picked up a jug of water.

“ _Ruth, don’t...”_

Ignoring Ethna’s plea, she dumped the water on the sleeping man's head, “ _Seumas you drunken bastard! Get off your arse!”_  Ethna stepped back as a tremendous roar erupted from the man's throat. “ _Good morning,”_ Ruth sang sweetly and Seumas replied with a string of curses, “ _Hope you slept well.”_

“ **What time is it?”** Seumas groaned and rubbed his face, settling down.

“ **Mid-morning, close to noon,** ” Ethna reported.

“ _What so important that is couldn’t wait till this evening, wee shite,”_ he murmured and nursed his head. Ethna nervously glanced at Ruth and back to Seumas.

“ _Nothing, I worried you no go to work,”_ she stuttered and turned to leave. Ruth grabbed her wrist and held her back.  
“ _That’s not true, I heard you say you had a plan, whatever it is, I want in,”_ she demanded.

Ethna tried to back up, _“I don’t understand…”_ she stammered feigning confusion. Ruth’s face scrunched up in anger, but she looked into Ethna’s eyes and sighed, letting go of her wrist and stepping back.

“ **Lass, what did ya want?”** Seumas piped up from the floor.

“ **Forget it,”** she mumbled and turned on her heel. It was a terrible idea anyway.  Not only could it get her killed, but it could very well damn her. She could never see her family again, even in death.

“ _She was my friend too.”_ The statement made her halt in her tracks. She stilled as Ruth raised her voice again, _“If you have a plan, let’s hear it, because I don’t, none of us do, and I’m tired of being helpless,”_ Ruth pleaded. Ethna swallowed and took one more step. “ _I know who killed her,_ ” Ruth blurted. Ethna whipped around.

“ _Who?”_ Ethna and Seumas growled simultaneously.

Ruth swallowed, “ _Gylfi, her master, his wife has been threatening to leave him because he sleeps with other women, yet of late, he’s convinced her that he has turned away from such behaviour.”_ Seumas frowned but Ethna began to catch Ruth’s drift as she continued, “ _I imagine Gylfi’s wife wouldn’t like to find her husband’s favourite slave pregnant after believing he had changed his ways.”_

It made horrible sense and it fitted the proficy. Ardney’s master wanted the child dead to get rid of the evidence of his infidelities. A bastard child that appeared to be his would bring shame to his family and ruin his marriage. The stakes were high, high enough for murder.

“S _o he made meeting with her for freedom and kill her,”_ Ethna surmised darkly.  Seumas stumbled to his feet, boiling with rage.

“ _I’m going to kill that sad sack of shit, I’ll rip his...”_ He didn’t really finish as he started to storm off.

“ _No_!” Both Ethna and Ruth scrambled to hold him back.

“You _two said you wanted vengeance, well let’s get it,”_ he shrugged them off.

“ _We can not just rush into this Seumas, we have to be patient, otherwise all we will end up doing is getting killed,_ ” Ruth gritted. Seumas huffed.

“ _You said you had a plan Ethna?”_ Seumas sighed.

 _“Yes, but take time, patience_ ," she repeated, “ _But will work, justice.”_

“ **Can I be the one to kill him, how ever I want?”** Seumas asked curiously.

Ethna paused and thought for a moment, “Yes, any way you want, if do what I say.”

“ **What if I wanted to rip out his heart and force it down his throat?** ” Seumas questioned. Ethna stiffened imagining the gruesome image.

She shivered and but grimly nodded, “ **It will work.”**

Seumas face lit up in delight and he clapped both girls on the shoulder, “ _Good, we’ll do it Ethna’s way.”_

* * *

 

 

At noon Ethna knelt near the bank of the stream and scrubbed at a particularly difficult stain.

“ _Bjalki Hreinsson is a fine man, I tell you, he know’s his way around under the skirt,”_ one of the other slave women she had never met giggled to her companions. Ethna rolled her eyes.

“ _It's true Bjalki knows how to please a woman but Gulli Haflidisson is by far the most impressive man that has ever taken me,”_ the second woman nudged her friend, “ _After him, every man is small,”_ they all burst into laughter. Ethna tried her best to tune them out. They talked of sin and dishonour. She could not understand how they could think like this, they should hate every man that touched them. Did they have no self-respect to even think of themselves as more than property? She felt a twinge of pity for them. To her, it seemed something in them was broken long ago. She shook her head and kept her head down.

“ **Girls, girls** ,” a woman she knew as Helena piped up, “ **I think you forget about the sons of Ragnar.”** There were nods of agreement. Ethna opened one ear in curiosity.

“ _But they're part god, it's unfair to compare them to the rest of men,”_ one managed through the fits of giggles. They all chattered away at once. She managed to hear an ‘Ubbe is so sweet’ and ‘Hvitserk is most clever with his mouth’ and even ‘Margarethe is a lucky woman’, Ethna curled her lip up in disgust. Obviously, they had no idea about their filthy habits, carelessness and stained clothes. If they did, they wouldn’t want to be with them, let alone, live with them. One voice suddenly cut through the din.

“ _What about Ivar Ragnarson, he has a most handsome face,”_ Runi shrugged. Ethna looked up and saw Runi’s swollen and bruised face and frowned. What had happened to her? The thought dissipated as the women broke out into laughter.

“ _That may be true, but what can he do for a woman? His legs are useless,”_ The first woman laughed.

“ **As well as what sits between them,”** the second woman added mockingly. There

were more giggles. Ethna frowned and turned her head in their direction.  Were they suggesting Ivar was impotent? Was that why he stopped on her first night here? Was that why he never tried again? It made sense, however, she liked to think he had a shred of decency in him and he somewhat cared for her emotions and well-being. His actions towards her and changed attitude where her only proof, but it had to count for something. Another snigger brought her back to the situation at hand.

“ _Poor boy, will never be a real man,”_ a third mocked, “ _I mean, all his raiding in England and his temper have to compensate for something, am I right?”_ Ethna’s mouth went dry as more snorts and chuckles left the women. This was not right. Ivar was a pigheaded, selfish, brat, but this was just cruel. She sighed and gathered her things getting ready to leave when a fourth woman piped up.

 **“I feel sorry for the little Gaelic woman he probably uses as a humping post every night, she probably wishes she was taken by any other man, at least then she could get some satisfact….”**  
“ **And what do you know about it, hmm?”** Ethna snapped. Heads turned in her direction and gawked at her. Her face suddenly felt hot under their scrutiny and she felt an urge to disappear. She swallowed and took a shaky step forward. **“I would not want for any other man to have taken me,”** she continued her face turning crimson. Even though her mind screamed at her to shut up, she knew this was the right thing to do. It would shut those yapping gossipers up and give Ivar a break. So what if it shamed her, it couldn’t be any worse than whatever these women already presumed. “ **Ivar has given me more pleasure than any man I have ever been taken by,** ” she proclaimed, “ **When he ravishes me, he makes me reach my peak of pleasure every time, his mouth is warm and divine in me, he is a very impressive size as well, you should all be jealous that I am the only one who gets to experience him,”** she threw mixtures of their own words back at them and tried best burry her mortification deep down.  She hoped what she had said made sense, she honestly had very little clue as to the mechanics of the ordeal, but judging by the shocked faces and the fact that they were too stunned to comment, she assumed she had said something right.

“ **That’s not what Margarethe said when she was with him,”** Helena murmured, Ethna frowned at that.

“ **Well, she must’ve been quite disappointing then,”** Ethna suggested, **“I guess I wouldn’t be too excited to do much with anyone either if I had slept with half the village beforehand,”** Ethna retorted and the women around her cackled. Ethna didn’t stay to share in their laughter, she had better things to do than degrade people any further. Besides she needed to think about what this new information meant for her and Ubbe’s ‘agreement’. It was clear to her that Ubbe was not the one who required the tonic.

* * *

 

 

“Good, you’re back,” Ivar greeted her. She just glared back at him. He sighed and continued unperturbed, “I need you to help pack provisions, Ubbe and Hvitserk have already started to buy some food, but I need you to pack some clothes for my brothers and I,” he informed her. She raised an eyebrow and set down a basket.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“We are going on a hunting trip, we have to be packed to leave by this afternoon so we can leave tomorrow morning,” he replied and took the wet stone from the table and began sharpening his knife.

“Will do,” she nodded and headed towards his bedroom, **“I’m good at packing with short notice,”** she sneered before she disappeared through the doorway. He sat, paused, for a moment before her meaning hit him. He turned to where she had just been and rolled his jaw, in annoyance.    

“You’re coming to,” he called after her.

“Why?” She groaned.

“Because I don’t trust you to stay put while I’m gone,” he explained.

He heard her mutter something, “Don’t you start, I’m not too pleased with you either, I had to compensate Helfrim this morning because of your actions last night.” She poked her head out the door frame with a look of interest.

“What is ‘compensate’?”

“Where I have to pay for your stupid decisions,” he explained with exasperation.

“What did I do?” She asked with genuine confusion.

“You and Helfrim’s thrall had a bit of a scuffle,” he ran his hand through his hair.

Her eyebrows raised in shock. “Really?” She then smirked, “Did I win?”

“Apparently,” he snorted. At first, when Helfrim knocked on his door and demanded compensation, he assumed she was making an excuse to see him, but when his own brothers said they had to break up the fight he was surprised to learn that Ethna could actually do a fair amount of damage.

 **“Shame,”** she sighed **, “I wish I could remember it.”** He gawked after her as she turned back into his room. He knew he should at least try to reprimand her but all he managed was holding back a chuckle that threatened to escape his lips.

* * *

 

 

“Good afternoon Helfrim, what can I do for you,” the usurper greeted her. Helfrim plastered a forlorn expression on her face to cover the smirk that hid beneath. Lagertha's end was near.

“My queen, I wish to ask leave for this week, my Uncle is ill and I need to see him, before he… he passes,“ she finished. The woman’s features contorted in sympathy.

“Of course I understand, you may go, family is most important,” She nodded, “Don’t feel like you have to ask either, as a shieldmaiden, your are free.”

“Thank you, my queen, I thought to ask would be a polite way to inform you rather than just disappearing,” Helfrim flashed a smile at her. The usurper smiled back.

“Thank you, for informing me, Helfrim, It’s good to know when I will be short-handed with your absence,” she complimented.

“I wouldn’t go as far to say you are short handed your majesty, you have many more shield maidens who are just as, if not more, capable than I,” she bowed and took her leave. A scowl taking over her face as soon as she departed the hall.

Runi was waiting for her. Her black eye, split lip and swollen nose managing a crooked half grin.

“The horses are ready and I have packed, will Ivar be joining us?”

“Yes, I spoke with him this morning, he shall leave first thing tomorrow, we’ll meet my dear cousins and then rendezvous with him at thor’s rock in four day’s time,” she detailed as she walked alongside her friend.

“That’s exciting news,“ Runi muttered.

“Also, this morning I managed to get this,” Helfrim tossed the small bag and heard the distinctive clink of coins when Runi caught it.

“Thank you,” she sighed, “You didn’t have to, I knew it could damage your relationship...”

“It was necessary,” she cut her off, “Justice must be executed,” she explained, “Also, I’d like to see that bitch suffer, the thought gives me great joy.” They arrived at the front of her house and she came to a stop, “Go get the horses, I must say goodbye to father and mother, we’ll leave shortly,” she instructed.

“Will do Hel,” Runi nodded, “Don’t be too long, I’ve got some fairly interesting news I heard while I was washing to share with you,” she beamed. Helfrim shot her a curious glance before entering her home.  

* * *

 

 

The provisions were packed and the aroma of tonight's meal filled the air. His stomach rumbled as he swung the door open and trudged into the house and sung out a greeting. He received a mousey reply from Ethna in the kitchen, she must have been the only person home. Ubbe gave her a warm smile that she did not return. He frowned and paced over to her. He thought they were past this.

“What is wrong?” He pried.

“You lied to me,” she mumbled.  Confusion clouded his face.

“What about?” He inquired.  

“The medicine, you said it was for you,” she murmured. What medi...ohh, that medicine, he thought to himself.   He brought his hand to his face and sighed.  

“I never said that,” he winced, “You just assumed that,” he explained.

“I am sorry but I will not make it,” she stuttered inaudibly looking at the floor.

“What?”

“I said I will not do it,” she looked up at him and stated firmly.  He stood there in shock.

“Who said you had a choice…” he began.

“I am Ivar’s slave not yours,” she pointed, “You can not punish me for not obeying you.” She was right.

“If you don’t make it, I’ll tell Ivar about the poison,” he threatened. She looked taken aback.

“You can’t, Ivar not believe you, if he does believe you, I get hurt, you care too much,” She bluffed boldly. He growled and then shook his head, she was right. He did care about her, she was the key to Ivar’s happiness. He couldn’t enforce anything he ordered her to do. She had figured out she was untouchable. If he couldn’t force her, maybe he could convince her.

“But this is for Ivar, this will end the ridicule, this will earn him respect, it will make him happy,” he implored. She pursed her lips and a shadow of guilt passed her face before she shook her head.

“He will use me, he will be able… I can not… I will become sad, broken,” she explained and her eyes teared up.

Ubbe stared at her curiously, “Why would that be so bad?” Ethna glared at him as if he was an idiot before sighing and leaning on the bench.

“I can not…” she paused as she searched for the right word, “I can not… **marry** after I have been used, I become sinful,” she elaborated. He frowned. She would feel ashamed? It was then the hidden meaning of her words sunk in; she was a virgin. As a slave, he just presumed that she was no different from the rest, he forgot that Ethna was very different from the others. She still dreamed of love and marriage.

“Why would you need to marry if you are a slave?” He asked perplexed. Her face shifted into a mournful expression.

“I not always slave,” she reminded, “I had life before, I had... **betrothed,** I love him, I want to go home.”  He gritted his teeth and looked at her pitiful expression. His chest tightened and he felt torn.   

Ubbe nodded and sighed, “I will forget about the tonic,” he paused and then rested a hand on her shoulder, “but, you should forget about your betrothed, holding on to him will only make the pain worse,” he advised before turning and leaving. He reasoned that it would be better to ensure that Ivar and Ethna felt the same way about each other before pushing her again.

* * *

 

 

“Why the hunt brother?” Hvitserk asked as their horses plodded alongside his chariot.

“It’s the last game we can get before winter sets in, believe it or not, I enjoy our hunting trips,” Ivar supplied. He looked back over his shoulder to see Ethna curled and nestled against the side of the chariot hugging her legs. She was asleep or trying to sleep. He reasoned that she would be pretty tired, she had been up before all of them to make breakfast. She had also shown some initiative and fetched a slave boy to, despite her fear, help her load the horses. He had awoken and looked out of the window to find the boy playfully taunting her, imitating braying and clapping his hands together like snapping jaws. Ethna had scowled and stuck her tongue out at him before proceeding to chase him around with the bridal. He remembered watching her smile and laugh as she caught the boy and ruffled his hair. He found himself smiling until the boy spotted him lurking in the doorway. To his dismay, the two immediately stopped fooling around and continued loading the horses in silence until the boy waved goodbye and ran off. He sighed and turned his attention to the road ahead of them, they were almost to the hunting cabin.

His brothers began reminiscing about their time in England, telling stories he had heard thousands of times before. He eventually zoned them out, becoming lost in his own thoughts.  He wondered what these relatives of Helfrim’s would be like. He only knew that they were two brothers, from the East and they had a title and an army. Another thought that plagued his mind was the impending decision of whether to involve his brothers or not. He wanted to involve Ubbe as he had wanted to avenge his mother, but he was unsure if he could trust him to keep his lips tight. Ubbe was trustworthy, but he trusted too easily. He hesitated about considering Hvitserk. He had no real thirst for revenge and was definitely loose-lipped, especially when drunk, but he was an excellent warrior. Then there was his idea of involving Harald and Halfdan....

“Ivar,” Ubbe whispered with a grin, demanding his attention.

“What?” His brothers held a finger to their lips and shushed him.

“Is she asleep?”Ubbe asked quietly and nodded his head in Ethna’s direction. Ivar craned his neck around and saw her eyes closed and her mouth slightly agape.

“Yes, why?” He whispered back. Hvitserk grinned and opened his saddlebag. He held back a giggle as he pulled out one of the four bedrolls they had brought with them, wound back his arm and tossed it into the surrounding shrubs. Ivar looked on in confusion and shock. Why did they do that?

“Oops, looks like we only have three beds,” Hvitserk squeaked as he struggled to contain his laughter.

“What a shame, looks like two of us will have to share,” Ubbe chuckled and clapped him on the back. Ivar choked back a laugh and looked back at the sleeping woman. He laughed while he still could because the second she found out, the joke would be over.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed I added this work to a series, If you want to check up on the Mac Curitins you can read the first chapter of the companion piece, [ The Journey of the Common Lords](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11994534/chapters/27136305)
> 
>  
> 
> I started doing character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag [Character Mail](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character+mail)
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)


	23. Blood Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ragnarsons and Ethna go on a hunting trip. While Ethna is shown another disturbing vision, Ivar contemplates involving his family in his plot with Helfrim. It's a time to choose, a time for vengeance and... it's time to meet the relatives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, violence, hunting, bird killing.

* * *

“Where is it?” She muttered to herself as she unpacked. She had double checked she packed four bedrolls, yet, the saddle bag only had three. There were four, there had been four and she was certain of it.  Ethna reasoned that perhaps someone had moved it into another bag, but that theory was quickly thwarted by the fact that all the bags had been unpacked. She stood up from her crouching position and stalked past the brothers to check if a bag had been left on the horses. As soon as she shut the rickety door she heard the snorts and snickers. She paused on the other side of the door and listened.

 _“Should we tell her?”_ Hvitserk whispered, _“Or should we wait till she realises that she’s gonna have to share?”_

“ _You two have no idea how much worse you've made this for me do you?”_ She heard Ivar groan. What were they talking about? _“She already hates me, and this isn't going to help!”_  Understanding of the situation suddenly hit her; Ubbe and Hvitserk had taken her bedding. She clenched her fists and turned back to the door. Her face flushed and her teeth ground against one another. She was going to throttle them. She took a deep breath, and told herself to calm down, throttling them wouldn’t get her bedroll back. She stopped at the thought and smirked, no, anger wouldn’t get her bedroll back, but some trickery of her own would.  They had their fun, time to have a bit of fun of her own. She put on the most confused and concerned face she could manage and stumbled back inside.

* * *

 

“Here,” Seumas called out to Ruth. The woman lifted her head and finished tying the small scrap of rope around a branch marking the way back.

“Here?” She questioned as she surveyed the small clearing, “Are you sure it's far away enough?”

“Any further away and it'll take too long to get ‘ere and back,” he explained as he took out a damp rag from a small sack.

Ruth grimaced at it as its stench hit her nose, “Ugh, what is that?”

“What's it smell like to ye?”Seumas laughed as he stuffed the rag inside a hollow tree.

“It smells like piss,” Ruth groaned.

“Aye, that’s because it is, and not just any piss either...”

“Please don’t tell me it’s yours,” she gagged.

“It’s not mine,” He chuckled and handed Ruth another sack, “Go spread the meat scraps out.”

“This is crazy,” Ruth huffed, “When Ethna said she had a plan I did not imagine anything like this.”

“Neither did I,” Seumas smirked, “Which is why it's brilliant.”

“But what if this doesn't work?” She queried.

“Well, we'll deal with that if it comes to it, but right now we just ‘ave to wait for nature to do its thing,” he began to walk back the way they came, “And come back tomorrow.” Ruth hoped Seumas was right, for all their sakes.

“Oh Ethna, I hope you know what you're doing,” she whispered.

* * *

 

 _“What’s the matter Ethna?”_ Ubbe asked with a smirk.

 _“Nothing,”_ she flashed him a nervous smile and paced over to the other bags and started to rummage through them, “ _One bedroll is not here.”_

 _“Oh dear, that’s unfortunate I guess…”_ Hvitserk began before she interrupted.

_“Unfortunate yes, dinner is not here as well…”_

_“WHAT?!”_ The brothers stammered all at once. Ethna turned away to hide her grin and rummaged through another bag.

 _“I place the dinner in the bedroll to hide from Hvitserk, so he no eat it while we travel,”_ she explained feigning worry.

The brothers suddenly began to squabble as they each realised what this meant.  True to her predictions, Hvitserk realised he hadn’t eaten anything but a light breakfast all day, Ubbe realised the missing food was the only food they had until they caught something, and the Ivar realised they had to find the bedroll before it became too dark to see. She held back a snort as Hvitserk shot to his feet and pulled Ubbe up, stuttering something about how he couldn’t remember where he had dropped the bundle. The older brothers stumbled out the door and hurriedly saddled their horses as the sun lazily dipped towards the horizon.  She watched the horses disappear into the distance and cackled.

 _“What have you done?”_ Ivar sighed. She smiled at him and lifted a blanket and revealed the missing food supplies.

“ _Hungry?”_ She asked with a smile. Ivar gave an impressed snort and nodded.

 _“I suppose I did try to warn them,” he paused and shook his head, “You’re deceitfulness is starting to concern me,”_ he commented as she began to assemble the meal. She flashed him a mischievous smile and they both let out a laugh.

He watched Ethna shift uncomfortably under his brother’s glare as they ate. Ubbe had been impressed at Ethna’s tactfulness, he had even laughed and ruffled Ethna’s hair when he returned to find dinner prepared. Hvitserk, however, didn’t take the joke well. He felt insulted, running around like a fool looking for a thrall’s bedroll, being tricked by into doing the dirty work. He looked downright murderous. Ivar had noticed the tension between Hvitserk and Ethna for some time now, but at present, it boiled around them, it seemed one false move could cause an eruption. Ubbe gave him a nervous side glance before he took a deep breath and tried to ease the situation.

“We should see who can tell the best story,” Ubbe suddenly announced. Ivar turned to him with a raised eyebrow. ‘Do you have a better idea?’ Ubbe mouthed. Ivar shrugged  and Ubbe got up to his feet, “Good I’ll start!” He grinned not really waiting for a reaction for anyone else. He paced around the small fire as if hunting for words before he opened his mouth and spoke,

“It was many years ago when I, Thor, lost my Hammer and had to go to extraordinary lengths to not only retrieve it, but spare the lady Freyja from marriage to the giant Thrym!” He began loudly. Ivar groaned and flung his head back, letting his eyes roll into his skull.

“We’ve heard this one so many times Ubbe!” Hvitserk moaned.

“I haven’t heard this one,” Ethna perked up.

“Because it’s stupid and childish, I tried to spare you,” Ivar explained.

Ubbe chuckled and continued stalking around the room with an idiotic grin on his face,

“I knew my hammer could not have gone missing easily, this was the work of jotun magic, so I enlisted the help of the trickster Loki to seek out Mjolnir,” Ubbe continued on retelling the tale of Thor’s wedding. Ethna was enrapt in the story, sitting on the edge of her bed, eyes wide with wonder. Her reactions to the ridiculous plot bought some level of entertainment to Ivar as Ubbe continued his tiresome tale. It became a competition. As soon as Ubbe finished, Hvitserk stood up believing he could tell a far better tale.

“I heard this from one of Harald’s men in England,” he began already peeking Ivar’s interest by being a story his brother hadn’t told him before.

* * *

 

Hvitserk finished his rambling and there was a collective sigh of disappointment.

“Is that it?” Ivar grimaced,  “That was the most predictable story I have ever heard.”

“Well, it sounded great when I heard it in England,” Hvitserk defended.

“How many cups of mead had you had brother?” Ubbe asked.

“Oh are you serious, it wasn’t that bad,” Hvitserk groaned, “Was it?”

“Yes,” Ivar and Ubbe agreed. All eyes turned to Ethna and she shrunk under their gaze and murmured something.

“Speak up Ethna,” Hvitserk leaned in.

“It was not that good,” she revealed,  “But good lessons in story,” she consoled weakly. Hvitserk rolled his eyes.

“I can tell a better story,” Ivar proclaimed, “But we’ll wait till tomorrow night, Hvitserk’s story has bored me so much I can barely keep my eyes open.”

* * *

 

Three days passed and things were uneventful. At night, the brothers would tell stories competing to see who could tell the best one, and in the morning, they would leave to hunt and they would not return until sundown. As soon as they were gone from her line of sight, Ethna would train. She would channel her rage at unsuspecting fence posts. She would wind back her arm and swing the rock in the cradle with as much force as she could muster, sight the post and loose the stone. Sometimes she would hit her target, sometimes she would miss but she was getting better. She knew now how long and fast she had to spin the sling above her head for the stone to actually embed in the wood, she knew roughly where she should release the rock if she wanted to hit her target.

She puffed and with some difficulty, she pried the stone out of the weathered post. Above her, a crow circled cawing obnoxiously. Death. That‘s what the bird represented in her culture. It was the harbinger of war, circling the soon to be battlefield, waiting for their feast to arrive and prepare themselves for the picking. She had seen it in her dreams last night; war was coming. A field of many lay slain as crows mobbed in the sky in swarming black clouds. It was different to her previous dreams, this battle would be in this land, not Eire. It would come with the snow after the log had burnt up. Of course, The Woman spoke non-sense to her again. She had no idea what this log was she spoke of, but apparently, it bought vengeance before and after its burning. Frustration gripped her hands as the bird continued to taunt her. She tightened her grip on the stone and glared at the bird as it continued to circle. She was sick of death following her around, she was sick of fear stalking her. She slipped the stone into the cradle and began to wind back the sling and swing.

“Stupid bird,” she sighted it and let loose.  She stared up at the sky watching her stone hurtle towards the crow until it became so small it disappeared. Then there was an awful squark as the bird seemed to hover mid-flight, then plummet to the ground.

She ran to where the bird met the earth and inspected the body. It was most definitely dead. A small part of her felt pity for the poor creature, it wasn't at fault for her frustrations, but the majority of her being felt accomplished. She managed to actually hit a moving target. She smiled at its ruffled black feathers and bloody chest. She raised her head and saw three horses riding towards her. The brothers were returning. Quickly, she scooped up the body and dashed around to find a place to hide it. They couldn't know she had a weapon. She didn’t know what the punishment for a daor having a weapon was in this land but she assumed it was not pleasant. She frantically searched for a place to stuff the dead bird and her eyes landed on the pit. She silently thanked God as she threw the bird into the filth below her and prayed that the brothers did not see anything suspicious. Cursing, she stumbled into the cabin and checked on the stew and made herself look busy.

 _“Smells good Ethna,”_ Hvitserk complimented as he sauntered into the cabin and plonked himself down. She nodded and fixed a strand of hair that had broken free.  Ubbe entered next carrying the meat needed to complete tonight's meal.   

 _“Good evening Ethna,”_ Ubbe greeted with a smile and handed her the rabbits they managed to kill and skin.  The door creaked and Ivar crawled in and locked eyes with Ethna immediately. He gave her a calculating look and she swallowed. He must have seen her.

 _“Ethna, we need to talk, put dinner on and come find me outside,”_ he ordered matter-of-factly and slipped back outside. She took in a shaky breath and steeled herself as she diced up the rabbit.

“ _I wouldn’t worry Ethna, Ivar is in a good mood, I doubt you could've done anything to anger him in these few moments,”_ Ubbe reassured. Ethna sighed and nodded but she did not get her hopes up.

* * *

 

He lifted his head at the door behind him creaking open. He watched her as she cautiously crept toward him. He sighed at the display.

“You're not in trouble, you have no reason to be so timid pet,” he called to her, “Unless you have done something without my knowledge?” He joked.

“No Ivar,” she shook her head adamantly.  He tilted his head and patted the grass next to him. She hesitantly lowered herself down next to him. “What can I do for you?”

“Must there always be a request from me? Can we not sit and have a conversation? Can we not sit and watch the sunset together?” He asked rhetorically.  She let out a chuckle and shook her head.

“You no seem like person who watch sunset,” she commented. His mouth twitched up.

“No, but you do,” he shrugged and she raised an eyebrow before he continued, “My mother liked to watch the sunset sometimes,” he reminisced.

“Similar, my mother liked to watch sunrise, in Leamh the sun rise up from ocean, sets in hills, here it is different, upside down,” she explained.

“Upside down?” He questioned. She turned her hands in a circular motion and tried to explain what she meant with gestures. “Do you mean opposite?” He asked her. She nodded.

“Opposite,” she tested the word, but he could see the bitterness in her eyes.

“You miss Eire, don’t you?” He asked already knowing the answer.

“I miss my family, Eire is just place, family is home,” she divulged. He exhaled, of course her family was her home. It was something so very _her_ to say. He felt guilty not only for being the cause of this, but for the fact that he did not feel the same way. His home was the hall. That throne was his birthright and his home, not the people around him, they were just comfort.  The resurging memories of his mother’s throne and his father’s house reminded him of his true intention for this conversation.

“I want you to come with me on the hunt tomorrow,” he stated. She lifted her head from it’s hung position and nodded half-heartedly. He hesitated before explaining further, “I’ve arranged to meet some people tomorrow, I want you to observe them, tell me what you think of them,” he instructed.

“Why?” She asked curiously.

“I want to know if I can trust them, you are good at deception…”

“No I am not!” She protested loudly.

“Yes you are,” he snorted, “But you are too soft to use it,” he scoffed.

“What’s wrong with soft?” She challenged. He turned and stared at her, she stared back sternly, continuing to challenge him. He shook his head and grinned at her. His eyes were drawn to the stray strand of hair that danced around in the breeze, the setting sun casting a yellowish glow around her. He cautiously reached out to her as if she could tear his hand off in a blink of an eye. For once, she did not flinch. She sat still, eyeing his hand as it grew closer to her face.

“For people like you Ethna,” he answered as he delicately tucked the strand of hair behind her ear, “There’s nothing wrong with soft.”

“What about you?” She tilted her head, and he subtly retracted his hand.

“I can’t afford to be soft, I wouldn’t survive,” he admitted. Ethna seemed to examine him with a sad look. His face hardened as he recognised it immediately; pity. “Don’t look at me like that, it does nothing,” he snarled. Instead of recoiling like the many times before when he had snapped at her, she reached out and touched his arm.

 **“It is sad when a warrior has to wear armour off the battlefield,”** she observed. He recoiled this time but she persisted and her hand followed him, **“You aren't always under attack.”** He yanked his arm away and backed away slowly. He was glad she felt comfortable enough to touch him, but this was strange, he felt exposed and he didn’t like it.

“Be ready to leave tomorrow and do not speak to my brothers of the meeting,” he swallowed and hastily retreated back to the company of his brothers.

* * *

 

Ethna clung to the side of his chariot looking rather pale and unamused. Apparently, she did not like to travel at very high speeds. He only laughed wickedly and flicked the reigns again, spurring Vaengi faster.

 _“AVE MARIA GRATIA PLENA DOMINUS TECUM BENEDICTAAAAAAAAAAAH!”_ She continued to squeal with terror as he hollered in ecstasy. He loved the feeling of the wind in his face and the rush of the world around him as Vaengi galloped, pulling them along. This is what it would be like to run, he thought. No, this is what it would be like to fly.

“Pull your head up, feel the wind, it’s exhilarating!” He suggested.

“ _You pull your head up, out of your arse!”_ Ethna screamed. He had no idea what she said, but it sounded like she was throwing curses left, right and centre. He laughed and let out another whoop before he eased up on the reigns, their destination looming closer. As the chariot returned to a comfortable speed for her, Ethna shakily rose to her feet and peered past the white stallion at the odd-looking rock formation.

“Is that Thor’s rock?” She inquired, catching her breath while studying the jutting stone that resembled a hammer on its side.

“What else could it be?” He grinned back at her. Above them a figure stood at the crest of the rock, her long dark hair whipping about in the wind. Helfrim raised a hand in greeting and waved.

“What is she doing here?” Ethna snarled quietly. He turned back to his thrall, surprised at her sudden animosity.

“She has been helping me plan my revenge, these men are her cousins, they are going to help me get back my throne,” He explained. Ethna’s eyes widened.

“Revenge?” She sputtered but he ignored her as his chariot came to a halt. They had arrived. He reached for his crutches and shuffled out of the chariot with Ethna’s help.

“Welcome Ivar,” Helfrim greeted with a smile as Runi stood behind her nodding in agreement. Helfrim then cast a glance of annoyance at Ethna and Ivar observed the grim acknowledgement Ethna returned her.  He noted the action down and decided to ask about it later.

“Well let’s not keep our guests waiting for too long shall we?” Ivar suggested and dragged himself forward breaking the tension between the women.

“This way,” Helfrim ushered them around the rock to a small campsite.

“So this is the famous Son of Ragnar, Ivar the Boneless!” An enthusiastic baritone voice called out. Ivar found himself face to face with a bright smile and tall looming figure. “You’re even more impressive in person!” The man beamed. Ivar trailed his eyes upward and met them deep blue eyes and a young, squared face, but with long, strange, white hair decorated with braids and metal beads.

“I imagined you taller,” another voice slyly commented. He searched past the grinning man to find a dry smile and a similar face, however, this man had a much smaller frame covered in swirling lines of ink. His bright-blonde fledgeling beard and hair knotted at the top of his head and shaven at the sides, starkly contrasted his brother’s.

“Oh well, we can’t all be giant’s like you Auisle,” The white-haired man chuckled and coaxed a snort out of everyone. Auisle glared at his brother and strode forward and extended a hand. Ivar shuffled his crutch to rest tightly under his arm and grasped his hand firmly and shook it. Auisle gave him a half smile of greeting,  then suddenly froze, fixing his gaze over Ivar’s shoulder and absent-mindedly retracting his hand. Ivar’s confusion at the action was forgotten when the white-haired man happily followed after.

“I am Olaf, son of King Ingjald and this is my brother Auisle,” he greeted, “We should sit, we have much to discuss.” Ivar nodded, but frowned when he noticed Auisle was still distracted, he looked back over his shoulder to find the subject of Auisle’s attention; Ethna. Ivar’s lip curled up defensively, Ethna’s eye’s met his and she shook her head conveying a simple message, ‘don’t’. He watched as she turned her attention to Auisle and screwed her face up in a vicious snarl of her own. He swung his gaze back to the brothers to find that Auisle had paled and taken a step back.

“Oh I like her! Is she a Celt?” Olaf boomed.

“She is a Gael, from Eire,” Ivar informed him. Olaf’s face lit up and motioned for them to follow him to the tent.

“Eire! She'll have to tell me all about it,” Olaf suggested with a smile, “Does she dance?”

“I no dance,” Ethna bluntly spat, folding her arms defiantly. Olaf chuckled,

“Ah, shame, I have heard it’s quite a sight to see the Gaelic women dance, tell me, do you know how to make patterned cloth?” Olaf asked, intrigued. Ethna thought for a moment.

“Maybe, I never tried, dye too expensive to try make pattern,” she answered. Olaf’s face brightened with glee and Ivar looked between the two then back to Helfrim for an explanation.

“Olaf is a bit eccentric, he has always had a fascination with foreign items, but don’t let his interests deceive you, he’s a collector of heads as much as he is a collector of art,” she whispered to him as they sat down.

“Brother, you can chat with the thrall about pots and pans later,” Auisle sighed, “For now we must discuss terms.”

“Quite right,” Olaf sighed and turned to him, “Ivar Ragnarson, we have heard much of you and your brother’s exploits in England and recently, Eire,” he paused and smiled at Helfrim, “When our cousin sent word that you were wishing to raise an army, we were most excited,” Olaf explained.

“You see, our father believes we should make our own way in this world,” Auisle began bitterly, “He has banished us from our home.”

“That’s not quite how it…” Olaf began but was interrupted.

“I want revenge,” Auisle revealed with a shrug.

Ivar smirked, “So you plan to help me regain Kattegat and then in return I help you overthrow your father and claim your kingdom back?”

“No, no,“ Olaf corrected, “He is our father, we can not kill him, we shall get the kingdom eventually and soon enough, Auisle has a different idea in mind,” he nodded to his younger brother.

“I want to become far more famous than him, kill more men than him, I want to travel and conquer the world with a Son of Ragnar, I want to see England, see Eire, make our own kingdom, and have our names be remembered in the voice of men for generations after we ascend to Valhalla,” Auisle explained passionately, leaning forward with a crazed look in his eye, “And when our father dies, I want his name to rot with his body, I want his name to be only remembered for the fact that he gave life to us, those are our terms Ivar the Boneless.”

Ivar leant back and smirked, “How many men follow you?”

“Three hundred and seventy, with us and 200 coming from our neighbours within the next week,” Olaf grinned.

“Their army came half the way and made camp, while they travelled ahead,” Helfrim explained.

“How can I trust that you won’t turn them on me after we get rid of Lagertha?” Ivar questioned.

Olaf laughed, “Oh Ivar, if we kill you, who will take us West?”

“We are from the East, far inland, we have no boats, our men are eager to get out and explore, however, we are not able sailors, you may not have many boats or men now, but once we defeat Lagertha, they will all be yours,” Auisle grinned, “You’ll have the means for our revenge, besides, to kill you, or to cross you, would mean death, I’m not interested in entering Valhalla before I am welcomed.”

Runi entered the tent carrying tankards of mead and offered them out.

“To our alliance,” Ivar grinned, raising his cup.

“To vengeance,” Auisle raised his cup.

“To glory,” Olaf toasted.

“To the King,” Helfrim smiled.

“Skol,” Ivar proposed and the four replied with cheers.  

* * *

 

He left promising his return with the others tomorrow. He had made up his mind, he was going to include Ubbe and Hvitserk. Discussing with The Brothers had opened his eyes to the benefits of involving them.  By involving Hvitserk and Ubbe, he could ensure more support from the people of Kattegat.

“What do you think Ethna, are they trustworthy?” He asked as they chariot rumbled along the road, racing the setting sun.

“Olaf is trustworthy, he is umm... **enthusiastic** ” she reported, **“** Auisle... I would be careful, he hides secret,” She advised quietly.

“Secret?”

“His father banish him for reason, he not tell, **he was vague** **but passionate,** he is trustworthy enough to help you get revenge,” she explained, finishing with a sad sigh.

“What is the matter?” He asked noticing her concern ever since he revealed that he was organising vengeance. They came to a stop outside the cabin and she helped him out of the chariot.

“Army camp not far, you can attack fast, you attacking in winter?” She queried. He frowned at her. Attacking in winter? That was ludicrous. No one attacked in winter, no one waged war in… He stopped himself, no one attacked in winter, therefore, no one expected an attack in winter. His mind ran wild with the possibilities.

“Ethna, you’re a genius,” he praised excitedly.

“What!? NO!” She protested, but he didn’t hear her as he rushed inside, leaving her with a panicked expression and a growing sense of dread.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Olaf and Auisle are in the picture now, they are both significant figures in the historical annals, they have very little written about them character-wise, Olaf is believed to be the saga's Olaf the White (again the nickname is a mystery) So they are like putty in my hands, let me know what you think of the princes of the East so far :)  
> If you wanna read the full story of Thor's wedding that Ubbe was telling, you can read it [here](http://www.storynory.com/2016/05/01/thors-wedding/)  
> For those who seem sceptical about Ethna's slinging abilities, I was too, until I did some research and found that ancient professional Jewish slingers could project rocks at around 90km/hrs, no doubt that Ethna get's good she could do some serious damage.
> 
> The real name of Ivar’s horse is Vaengi, which means: wings.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character+mail)


	24. Frayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball is set in motion and it is clear now that a war is coming to Kattegat. Similarly, Ethna plots her revenge against Ardney's killer. When both are hit with disasters, Ivar and Ethna are faced with a single question; is the price for revenge too high?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, violence, angst, threats and mentioned abuse of a child.
> 
> If you have checked it out yet, there is a new chapter of [The Journey of the Common Lords](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994534/chapters/28242360) out

* * *

“How could you keep this from us!” Ubbe ranted.

“I didn’t want to involve you until I knew it was going to work!” Ivar justified.  Hvitserk sat back meekly glancing at both his brothers. Ethna was nowhere to be seen. The yelling probably deterred her from returning with firewood.

“You don’t know if this is going to work, you don’t know how many men will follow you, we do not know when Bjorn will come back!” Ubbe listed, “We don’t even know these men’s intentions!”

“Their intentions do not matter, what matters is that we avenge our mother!” Ivar shouted.

“I know!” Ubbe screamed. He then sighed and shook his head, “I know, Ivar, we have to avenge our mother, but we can not rush into this, this is something we should have done together from the start, we need to stick together as brothers…”

“And I am not proposing that we split up, that is why I am involving you two,“ Ivar explained.

“Ivar,” Hvitserk finally decided to speak up, “If we kill Lagather, what happens after?”

“If?” Ivar scowled, “Oh Hvitserk, it was never a question of ‘if’, no, it has always been when,”  Ivar smiled darkly. Ubbe was pinching his forehead in frustration.

“Alright then, I’ll indulge you,” Hvitserk leaned back folding his arm across his chest, “‘When’ we kill Lagertha, what happens after?”  

“I will be king,” he stated matter of factly. Hvitserk tensed.

“You, will be king?” Ubbe asked incredulously. “I am the oldest…”

“Father chose me, not you Ubbe, me,” Ivar sneered.  Hvitserk felt a familiar tension building in the air and he did not like it.

“He didn’t choose you Ivar,” Ubbe commented. Hvitserk turned to Ubbe in shock that he would dare defy Ivar. “You are right that he chose you to avenge him,  but he did not choose you to succeed him,” Ubbe continued, “In fact, he did not choose any of us to succeed him, and even if he did, it would have been Bjorn, which brings me back to the problem…”

“Then we shall kill Bjorn!” Ivar slammed his fist into the ground.

“We can not simply kill Bjorn!” Ubbe raged back.

As they began to bicker back and forth Hvitserk let his mind wander. Once Lagertha was dead, one of them would be king. He mulled that thought over, what would it be like to be king? Respected? Remembered? He continued to travel along that line of thought. He thought about the glory, the power and the importance such a position would bring him. If he were king, he would no longer be second fiddle to anyone.  He was always seen as Ubbe’s brother, ‘the easy-going one’ or ‘the funny one’, if he were king people would take him seriously. Why hadn’t he thought of this before, he asked himself. But he already knew the truth; he already thought about it his whole life. He was second born.  Second born and second place. To be king was not his right and he could make peace with that. However, what he could not stand was the fact that that mentality applied to his whole life.  It was him who always got the leftovers. It was him who was forgotten. It was him who had to share Margrethe because his brother got first pick.  It was always him losing to his brothers and no one saw or cared. He wanted it to end.

If Ivar did manage to take Kattegat he had no doubt who would be king. That is where Hvitserk saw his opportunity. Ivar would be king, but he wouldn’t stay put. Ivar would grow bored. He would want more. He would want to: take more, be more, see more, kill more. Ivar would constantly be away from Kattegat raiding and conquering England, perhaps even Eire. Ivar would need a regent, and Hvitserk was going to make sure that he would be first this time.

“I will fight with you brother,” he interrupted their arguing. Both their eyes widened in shock.

“What?” Ivar choked.

“Hvitserk?” Ubbe chuckled nervously, “Are you serious?”

“I will go with you tomorrow and meet this Olaf and Auisle,” he ignored Ubbe, “We must avenge our mother… but we also must take back our rightful throne.”

“Hvitserk this is not a good idea, it is not safe…” Ubbe began but he was cut off quickly.

“It was never be going to be safe Ubbe!” Ivar bellowed, “You knew that, you were with me, you promised to avenge her! What changed?” He asked. Hvitserk could see the disappointment in his eyes. “Was it the fact that Bjorn came home? Was it the fact that father died?” Ivar questioned but then paused as malice filled his face, “Or was is that woman who deceived you and got our mother killed in the first place? Has she bewitched you, made you so ‘happy’ you've become complacent?” He hissed.  

“You are wrong, Ivar,” Ubbe sighed, “I want to take back Kattegat as much as you and bring Lagertha  to justice, but we must be careful, Lagertha is a formidable force and she has many supporters, I do not think it is wise to use an army of men we hardly know to form our own army, I also feel insulted that you felt you could not trust me, we were in this together and you now go and do this by yourself… Ivar you are tearing us apart! ” Ubbe finished passionately.

“I wouldn't have to tear us apart if you listened to me and respected me!” They began arguing again.

“I do listen and respect you, but I won’t charge into battle because you can't be patient!”

“If you are not with me, then you are against me!” Ivar screamed. Hvitserk winced again and his eyes flashed to his brother’s belt.  Fortunately, Ivar had no weapon.

“I am not against you!” Ubbe yelped.

“You have a choice; fight alongside me or I will kill you,” Ivar gritted. Hvitserk swung his head between the two in shock. Ivar radiated rage while Ubbe drew his mouth into a snarl.

“Now you go too far,” Ubbe hissed, “I am your brother!” Ivars face softened with confusion before filling with dread.

“No, Ubbe…” Ivar stammered frantically, but Ubbe was already storming towards his bedroll and roughly stuffing his belongings into his pack. Ivar crawled towards him,  “Ubbe I… Did not mean it, …”

“No, you never do, don’t you?” Ubbe sneered before stalking towards the door.  

Ivar’s face filled with anguish, “Ubbe!” Hvitserk rushed to grab Ubbe’s shoulder, but he shrugged him off and shook his head. Hvitserk stared into Ubbe’s eyes to find that a look of disappointment met him.

“Ubbe…” Hvitserk called.

“Take care of yourself Hvitserk,” Ubbe murmured slamming the door behind him. This was not good, not good indeed.

* * *

 

He fumed as he trudged toward his horse. After all, he had done for him, Ivar was still the same. Ubbe was tired of trying, he couldn’t do this anymore.  He rounded the corner to find Ethna cowering outside, clutching the firewood in front of her.

“You may want to stay out here for a little longer,” he sighed heavily, giving her a nod before continuing to his horse and fastening his pack on the saddle.

“Ubbe, where you going?” She crept towards him curiously.

“I am going home,” he stated simply, continuing to prepare the horse.

“At Night? Danger for you,” she studied him with concern, “Ubbe what is wrong?”

“Ivar is making a mistake that I do not wish to be apart of,  he has gone too far this time, I thought I could be there for him, help him to be better, I thought he listen to me, I thought he had changed since England, but I was wrong,” he uttered with a huff and positioned himself to mount the horse, but he was stopped by Ethna tugging at his shoulder.

“You are leaving? In Kattegat, will I see you?” She asked urgently.

“No, I will take Margrethe and leave…” he began.

“You cannot,” she implored, “Ivar needs you.” He shrugged her off and climbed onto his horse.

“He has Hvitserk now,” he spat.

“No, his heart need you,” Ethna pleaded. He froze. “He love you, he is angry, you leave now, he stay angry,” He shook his head and settled himself in the saddle and took the reigns,   **“It takes time and patience to heal a wound of flesh, wounds of mind and heart are no different, do not give up,”** she encouraged in Saxon, before adding, **“Besides, if you go, I will miss you.”** He looked down at he from his horse, her green pleading eyes stared back. She’s right, a voice in the back of his mind agreed. If he left, things would only get worse, besides he had made too much progress with Ivar to give up now.  He could not leave him, especially now when Ivar had finally found someone who made him happy. Without him around, who knew what would happen to Ethna.  He huffed in annoyance.

“Fine!” he grunted and slid off his horse, “I’ll stay tonight, but I am leaving first thing tomorrow and until Ivar comes up with a better plan I will not get involved with his scheming,” he huffed. She smiled and gave him a quick hug, “Thank you.”

* * *

 

 

He snatched his pack off the horse and stomped back into the cabin, Ethna tailing after him.

“Ubbe?” Hvitserk and Ivar questioned in shock when he reappeared through the door.

“I will not be part of this and that is the end of the conversation,” Ubbe stated before laying out his bedroll and plonking himself down on it, “I am returning to Kattegat tomorrow morning, that is also final.” He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself enough to sleep. Eventually, he heard Hvitserk’s soft snores, but his ears pricked up when he heard a shuffling sound. Ivar, Ubbe deduced.   He heard Ivar slowly crawl his way quietly over to the far side of the room near the fire, where Ethna was asleep. Ubbe cracked an eye open and peaked at his brother sat next to the girl’s bed and bent down to her ear. Although it was a whisper Ubbe could still make out his words.

“I don’t know what you said to him, but thank you,” he whispered to her before crawling back to his own bed.

* * *

 

“Yule!” Auisle roared with laughter, “You want to attack during the depths of winter? You’re…”

“An absolute genius,” Olaf cheered cutting his brother off, “Not only will that catch them off guard, but it can also give us false reason to visit Kattegat,” Olaf excitedly raved.  

Auisle raised an eyebrow and folded his arms, “Fine I will admit that it will give us significant advantage, but how are we going to pull it off, our men will freeze and starve if we don’t win fast enough, we will have limited supplies, we are not prepared to wage war that soon,” he put forward.

“We’ll have to be extremely careful with our supplies and where we draw up the battlefield, it is possible but it will be difficult,” Ivar nodded.

“What if we constricted the queen’s movement?” Helfrim asked rhetorically. He turned to his cousin who had been silent until now.

“What do you mean?” Hvitserk studied her.  Olaf watched her glance around the room to make sure she had everyone’s attention, he observed that she met Ivars eyes and held his gaze before she divulged her idea. He smirked, that was most interesting, he observed.

“If we sneak a small force into Kattegat and organise a coup from the inside during the festivities, we can force Lagertha out, and in the process we don’t reveal the true size of our forces,” Helfrim suggested.

Ivar nodded thoughtfully and smiled, “And then we force Lagertha to meet us on our terms, she will be unprepared and ill-informed,” he added.

“Then we can choose the battleground and use it to our advantage, which I am sure you will excel at,” Hvitserk grinned at Ivar.

“Then it is settled,” Olaf clapped, “We will train our army and you will prepare for a coup and we will meet during Yule, but for now, let’s drink,” he beckoned to Runi and Ethna to bring the mead. Auisle and Hvitserk stuck up a deep conversation while Helfrim rambled to Ivar. He eyed Ethna as she leant over to pass Ivar a drink, he managed to get a glimpse of the pendant from the mysterious necklace he had spotted yesterday. Ethna offered him a horn and he smiled at her. “Ethna, could you show me that pendant of yours?” He asked. Her hand went defensively to her neck before she nodded and stepped closer pulling the pendant from it’s hiding place.  He saw Ivar’s eye’s dart in his direction briefly, an even more interesting action, Olaf noted. He turned his eyes to the wooden pendant and studied the intricate carvings with great interest, “Is this from Eire?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly.

“It is lovely, what does it mean?” He pried.

“Sorry I don’t understand,” she shook her head in confusion.

“This symbol, in the centre, what does it mean?” he clarified.

“Oh, this is semar, it is plant, luck, protection, as well as, umm, I do not know word… together? Connected? All into one...” she tried and motioned, clasping her hands together.

“Unity?” He suggested. She nodded with uncertainty while he hummed thoughtfully, “And the symbols around it, are they fish?”

“Yes, salmon, for wisdom,” She explained.  He was puzzled as to why salmon represented wisdom, he could think of many creatures that were far more intelligent than a fish, but the necklace still enticed him.

“How much do you want for it?” He inquired.

“What?” She stammered.

“Your necklace, I would like to buy it from you,” he smiled. He wouldn’t have to offer much. She was a slave, she would take what money she could get. She surprised him with her bold answer.

“It is not for anyone to buy,” she informed him.

He smirked, “I’ll give you ten pieces.” He watched her jaw drop.

“Ten?” She questioned holding up both her hands displaying her fingers, unsure if she heard right.

“Yes, ten pieces, that is how much I am willing to offer you,” he smiled confidently. She would cave to that deal, surely.  She stood there for a long while twiddling the pendant in her finger and biting her lip. He had her, he grinned to himself. His smugness faded when she shook her head tucked the pendant back into her neckline.

“Not for anyone to buy,” she reaffirmed. He let out a snort of disbelief but nodded as he pieced together pieces of her story. A pendant, relatively new, hand carved, of no significant monetary value, yet still priceless to her.  At face value, nothing but a good luck charm. However, taking her age and unwillingness to part with it and pairing it with the semar’s symbolic meaning of unity, that she took the time to explain, he had a fairly good idea what exactly it was; an engagement gift.

“Ah, sentimental value eh?” He grinned. She simply nodded and skittered back over to Ivar. Olaf chuckled to himself and surveyed the tent. In this tent alone there were many tangled strings. Oh, the Norns must be having a most enjoyable time.

* * *

 

Ethna grunted as she hauled three saddlebags into the house at once. She reached the door and groaned when she realised Margrethe had shut it in her hurry to suffocate Hvitserk with her lips. She attempted to unlatch the door with her elbow, determined not to set her load down. She tripped forward when Ubbe opened the door unexpectedly.

“You need a hand?” He asked as he stepped aside letting her through.

“No, I near to done,” she admitted, “You go talk to Ivar and Hvitserk.”

“So you’re the one giving orders around here now?” Ubbe chuckled.

“Yes, you do as I say, when I say it, understand?” She screwed up her face in a snarl and furrowed her brows. He stood there in shock before she let down her charade and giggled. “Guess who?” She asked rhetorically. Ubbe let out a snort when he realised she had been joking.  

“You’re actually quite good at getting his facial expression,” he admitted, “You scared me for a second there.” She frowned, scared?

“You afraid of him?” She tilted her head, “But he is brother.”    

“So was Sigurd,” he murmured and walked off before she could ask further. She set down the bags. Who was Sigurd? She felt a shiver run down her spine.

“Ethna!” Ivar called to her, “There someone here asking for you!” She paced back outside and saw the stable slaves lead the horses away in front of them. “I’m here!” She called back as the horses cleared leaving Ivar and another familiar figure in their place.

“Lass,  thank the gods, we need ye, there’s been an accident,” Seumas quivered, “We did the best we could, but we didn’t know where ye’d gone or when ye’d be back…”

“What? Who?” She rushed forward.

“It’s Esegar,” Seumas stammered, she turned on her heel and charged into the house.  

“What’s going on?” Ivar called after her as he hobbled behind on his crutches. She bashed Margrethe aside as she tore into Ivar’s room diving under her bed to retrieve her bag. “Ethna!” He screeched behind her as she sprinted out of the house.

“Sorry Ivar, very important!” She shouted back over her shoulder.

“Come back here!” He bellowed.

“I back before midnight! I promise!” She called back as Seumas ran with her.

* * *

 

She stared at the bloody mess surrounding the boy’s body as fell to her knees beside him.

“This was no accident,” she snarled taking in the raw stripes that ran up the length of his back.

Ruth handed her a bucket of water, “He was lashed, but his master was overzealous, Seumas found him yesterday, I gave him strong ale to help the pain,” she reported.  Ethna searched the unconscious boy’s back for signs of infection and rummaged through the bag beside her.

“I need a mortar and pestle, now!” She ordered. A young slave named Luta scurried for to retrieve one.  

“Why did his master do this to him?” She pressed.

“He was stealing dog’s scraps, for us,” Ruth guiltily admitted, “I guess his master found out when the ale clouded his head.” Ethna winced, this was all her fault.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have checked it out yet, there is a new chapter of [The Journey of the Common Lords](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994534/chapters/28242360) out. 
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	25. Look at the Mess we Have Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yule is almost upon Kattegat and everyone has questions. The members of the slave house question if vengeance is worth its consequences, Ethna questions her sanity, Hvitserk questions Ivar's authority over his own Thrall and Ivar confronts himself and questions what he really wants from Ethna. All the while Ruth and Ethna plan to find a way to confront The Woman in Ethna's dreams. Paths are forming. War is coming. It is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, violence, angst, threats, mentioned abuse of a child, implied rape, PTSD, blood, lashing, mental breakdowns, medieval medical procedures, nudity, religious persecution, threats, dark fantasies and talk of mutilation.

* * *

**“This is a right mess...”** Seumas dismayed, taking out his flask and bringing it to his lips. **“Oi!”** He protested as Ethna quickly snatched it from him and took a whiff of the contents. Alcohol of some kind; just what she needed.

**“Hold him down, this will sting, he will struggle,”** Ethna gritted to Seumas as she soaked a cloth with it and positioned it above the wound.

**“Will the** _Pìos cac gòracht_ **be alright?”** Seumas queried, doing as he was instructed.

**“As long as these wounds do not get infected, he will live,”** she informed them with a  pained sigh, **“But he will not be able to move for days, it will be painful and slow to heal and these lashes will scar permanently,”** she finished dismally. She gritted her teeth as she slowly and delicately ghosted her hands over Esegar’s torn back, letting the cloth sink into the wounds. Strangled cries and muffled screams as his body began to twitch back to consciousness.  Ethna’s heart broke when the thrashing and screaming escalated.

**“Noooo! Stop! It hurts, God it hur-ahhh-hrrg!”** Esegar wailed. She swallowed. She couldn’t stop, not now. She tried to make soothing sounds and continued, but it did little to help.

_“Dear God, please, I beg you, ease his suffering,”_ she prayed quietly under her breath.

_“Pìos cac gòracht_ , ye listen to me an ye listen good, half the pain is in yer head, don’t give it yer focus son,” Seumas advised.

“Think about something that makes you happy, think about it really hard, okay?” Ruth encouraged. Esegar whimpered but stopped struggling. Removing the cloth, she lathered her palm with the paste she had made. He groaned and hissed through clenched teeth as she rubbed the paste into the wounds. Taking a few strips of cloth she began to bandage the wounds. The boy gasped and shuddered.

**“Just listen to my voice,”** Ethna soothed. She began to sing a tune her father used to sing when he threaded fish hooks.

 

“ _Down under the waves the merrow would sing,_

_‘Till the tide was low and the moon was dim,_

_one night a moon, the land she would roam,_

_but not aware, the snare_

_of young man Faloan,_

 

_Faloan a thief, handsome was he,_

_His hair was black and his eyes were green,_

_He watched and he waited for when her cap left her head,_

_He stole it, and stole her,_

_And had her to wed...”_

 

Ethna stopped singing as she carefully lifted her hands from the boy's back. She needed to take a breather and let the emotions out. Fennore had taught her that in cases like this, it was never good to let the emotions cloud you while you worked, they were for after and they were not to be bottled up either. Taking a deep sigh she finished securing the bandage and ran her fingers through his thick mop, **“Rest now, I will check on you tomorrow, okay?”**

Esegar groaned a response as Ethna stood and wiped her bloody hands on her apron. Snatching back his flask, Seumas sat, pale and distraught against the wall next to Esegar.

**“I’ll keep an eye on this bastard, ye bett’r get ye ass back home wee shite,** _ceann bod_ _crùbach sin nas fheàrr_ …” He trailed off into muttering in his own language.  Ethna sighed and motioned to Ruth to follow her outside.

* * *

Tears began to well in her eyes as she trudged out the door.  The moment they were out of earshot of the others Ethna let the rage within her boil over.

“Who did this?!” She demanded with teeth clenched.

“We told you, his master did…”

“Name, Ruth!” Ethna barked. Ruth winced. Ethna wiped her face and let her head fall into her hands, “I am sorry, it not you, I just… am... angry, so angry,” she took a step back and sunk to the ground, “I should have been here, I should not have asked him steal scraps, I could have done it, it is my fault Ruth, I fail him.”

Ruth crouched down next to her, “That’s not true.”

“No it is, I too weak to defend home, I not strong to keep running and I got Daibhi kill, I too late to save Ardney, now I too late to save Esegar and am too stupid to see danger I put everyone in,” she explained, “I have much hate, Ruth, I want to kill Esegar’s master, I want to kill Gylfi, I want to kill everyone who hurt you, I want justice...”

“You say this, yet you don’t want to kill Ivar, the man who enslaved you, destroyed your village and invaded your homeland, the man you should hate most, why?” Ruth questioned puzzled.

Ethna shook her head and sobbed, “I should hate him, I should want to kill him every time I see him sleep, it would be easy, stupid but easy... I should but... I cannot, I cannot find in me, yet I think the ways I avenge Ardney, what I do to Gylfi when I get hold of him…” she sucked in a breath, “I do not know what is wrong with me,” Ethna quivered, “Have I lost mind?”

“You haven't lost your mind,  do you know how many times a day I think about stabbing my master? I’m sure you've got your moments when you want to murder Ivar,” Ruth chuckled, “But Ethna, you are different from most here, you're selfless, you act out of love and take courage to think of others more than yourself, like Ardney did,” Ruth gripped her shoulders, “There's nothing wrong with you, so many here start off like you, but then fear turns them selfish and cowardly, and towards the end, they only care about their next meal, you, however, are brave to care about the people you love, you want to protect and avenge them, there's nothing wrong with that, well except when you neglect yourself too much, that's not good for anyone,” Ruth instructed. “Remember: No one asks you to be our shield,” Ruth laid a comforting hand on her arm. “We managed fine before you came here, we can look after ourselves, it's not your responsibility to protect us, we all knew the consequences when we chose to avenge Ardney, we knew the risks, you've failed no one.”

Ethna nodded and turned away from her friend guiltily. She felt like a fraud. Here Ruth was, telling her how selfless and caring she was, while Ethna knew she was the opposite. Ruth was such a good friend, she didn't deserve a terrible friend like her. A real friend would've taken Olaf’s offer and used the money to get their suffering friend out of their miserable situation. Ruth didn't talk much about her past, but from what Ethna could gather, Ruth had been enslaved around the age of eleven. She had a life of being carted here and there, changing masters and being treated like nothing short of cattle. Ruth never said anything about how she was treated, but from the bruises on Ruth’s face and thighs Ethna caught glimpses of some mornings when they bathed, Ethna knew what Ruth’s master did to her.

If she had just let go of her pride and selfishness and let the wooden pendant go, she could save Ruth. However, she couldn't bring herself to part with it, it felt like the ultimate betrayal to give up the last bit of him. She silently promised Ruth that she would find another way to free her, but for now, she had to deal with the shame and guilt as Ruth tried to cheer her up.

“Well there's some good news,” she shrugged

“And what that be?”

“Turns out there is a method to your madness, your plan is working, I couldn't believe it but, by the fourth day, they came, and they have kept coming ever since, everything is ready we just need an opportunity,” she surmised. They would have to make a move before Ivar attacked the end of Yule, whatever that was.

“What is Yule?” Ethna asked Ruth.

“That’s perfect!” Ruth exclaimed, “Everyone will be so drunk no one will notice us sneaking away… no one would know, that's genius Ethna,” Ruth murmured excitedly

“Wait, I just…”

“When they set the log to burn, that is the biggest feast, that is when we can strike...Ethna, are you okay?” A log? The Log.

“The Log brings vengeance before and after its burning,” her voice quaked.

“You had another vision?“ Ruth questioned cautiously. Ethna nodded.

“I have many visions and bad dream, but few day ago I heard prophecy from The Woman, it is good for plan, but she frightens me,” Ethna admitted.

“The Woman?” Ruth pried.

“I do not know who she is, she was there the first time I had vision, she tells me things, sometimes she is there, other times, it just her voice,” she tried to explain, “She does not like me.”

“What does she look like?” Ruth asked.

“She is Dane, from this land,  blue eyes,  hair dark blonde sometimes reddish-blonde, tall, red dress, rich and have kohl around eyes,” she listed. Ruth nodded curiously and hummed thoughtfully.  

“My mother was often visited by her ancestors, they use to frighten her at first, but one time she stood fast and she commanded them to stop and identify themselves, after she knew their names they obeyed her, she could talk to whichever soul she pleased, have you tried to talk to her before?” Ruth suggested.

* * *

This was a mess and it was his fault. Despite making her his ‘special slave’ and having the right to take her however and whenever he pleased, he concluded that he wanted her to choose him. In fact, if he weren’t certain that she would bolt back to her homelands he would free her, but for now, she was still his slave. Her current behaviour, as Hvitserk had just drilled into him moments before, was ‘unacceptable’. He never wanted to truly harm her, but somehow he had to reign her in. She had become disrespectful, disobedient and overconfident, all because he let her get away with too much. His love for her had blinded him to the fact that she was still his slave and that she was expected to act as such. He had to keep her under control. Like he was supposed to, like he had to. He hoped by threatening violence, he’d never have to use it, but in growing more comfortable around him, she seemed to no longer take his threats seriously. He had to do something, but he was afraid.

He was afraid of hurting her and losing the small amount of ground he had made in their relationship. Contrary to what he had tried to tell himself, her opinion of him did weigh heavy in his mind. One step too far, and she would never love him. However, more than the other fears shone one that he feared the most;  that he would enjoy punishing her. The truth was, he was a violent and angry man. It was no secret that he revelled in other’s pain, but he did not want that pleasure to apply to people he cared about. He could never allow himself to do that to Ethna, not again. He remembered back to when he had tortured Ethna into revealing her name. Never had he felt such ecstasy; a situation that he could never let happen again.

He feared that the nightmares that he shot up from in the dead hours of the night would become reality. That he would pin her down and take her kicking and screaming while he laughed and grunted with pleasure. Or that he would tie her down and brand his name into her skin so she would never forget she was his. He always hoped that after, he could open his eyes and find her safely nestled into the furs of Sigurd’s bed across from him and that what happened was not real. He was horrified that his mind would give him these visions, but a small part of him was curious, and he had to make sure that that curiosity was never satisfied. He could never let himself get that far, there was no telling what perverted madness he was capable of if he just let himself go. He promised his brothers after killing Sigurd that he would try to keep himself in check, he promised Ethna that it would never happen again and he promised himself that Ethna would be safe with him.

But for now, it was his job to intimidate her.

* * *

 The door opened and he let his axe fly. It embedded in the door frame above her head and she barely even flinched, only stopping to give the axe a dismissive glance, which only infuriated him further.

“Aim lower next time,” she encouraged in what he hoped was a sarcastic manner. He clenched his jaw in frustration and watched her tug the axe from the door frame and pace over to where he sat. She offered the axe to him handle first. “How long you sit there and wait to throw axe at me?” She taunted and began to walk past him. His hand shot out and latched around her wrist yanking her back to him. Suddenly the fear he hadn't seen for weeks reemerged.

“Since you disobeyed me and ran off,” he seethed his answer.

“I did not run away, I said I would be back,” she reminded him slowly as if trying to calm herself more than him.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave me,” he countered, “Do you know what happens to slaves who run?” He glared at her. She looked almost confused by what was happening. Hvitserk was right, he had let her get away with too much. “If they are not killed, they are branded and have one of their toes or fingers removed, some masters are cruel enough to have their tongue removed too,” he detailed to her quietly. She swallowed.   

“It was emergency,” she murmured and slowly gestured to the blood on her apron.  He frowned.  

“You still disobeyed me, you cannot just run off without my permission,” he growled. She glanced around the house quickly before whispering her argument, “You would not give to me, even if I ask.”

“You don't know that, I can be quite generous when I want to be,” he countered. She scoffed. He glared at her and she shut her mouth and glanced down to avoid his stare. “Well then, let's hear it,” he released her and sat back.

“Hear what?” She asked.

“Your ‘Emergency’, what was it?” He tilted his head, gesturing at her to explain herself. She swallowed and hung her head.  

“My friend… lashed, it so bad, blood... pain... he cannot walk…” His head snapped up.

“He?” Who was this man? Obviously not the one who came asking for her, he had no lashes. All this time she had spent away from him had she been seeing some other man? A slave? Did she ‘love’ this man? That would explain why she dropped everything in an instant and ran. His fists clenched.

“My friend Esegar,” she explained warily. He would string this Esegar up, make a bird feeder out of him and make it look like a bloody accident, but first, he had to find this man.

“Describe him for me, I believe I have met him,” he waved.

“Um, thick dark hair...” Ivar had dark hair and he believed it was thick at the top, was Esegar’s somehow better? “Blue-grey eyes...” What was wrong with his eyes? They were blue. “He has uhh…” she continually poked her face around her nose and cheeks and shrugged.

“Freckles?” He questioned. Come to think of it, Fabian had some freckles too. Those he did not have. Did Ethna like freckles?

“Yes, he is about this tall…” she gestured to her chest and he frowned. This man was very short, “Maybe 11-13 years old…”

“Oh,” he remarked dumbly. He had met the boy before. The morning they left. He had seen a boy of that description help Ethna saddle the horses. Mortified he let his head fall into his hands as he regained his composure. ‘Punishment,’ his mind reminded himself. “I can see why that would be important to you, if you had asked I would've let you go, do you understand what will happen next time you disobey me Ethna?” He asked menacingly.

“Yes, I am sorry, it will not happen again,” she mumbled.  An idea sparked in his mind and he grinned wickedly.

“Good, then show me how sorry you are and draw me a bath,” he commanded.

“What?” she laughed nervously.

“You heard me, it has been a long journey and I would like to feel clean, so go draw me a bath,” he repeated

“It the middle of night…”

“Ethna,” he warned.

“Fine,” she spat and scooped up a bucket and trudged outdoor.

* * *

  _“Next time you can fetch your own bloody bath pompous arse…”_ She cursed in her own language as she hauled the last of the water into the warmth of the house. She stretched before picking the buckets up again and pouring half of each into a pot to it heat up.

“Almost done?” Ivar smirked from his warm seat by the fire.  Ethna wanted to strangle him, but didn't think she could finish the job because presently her hands were so cold, she could not feel them.  

_“One day, someday…”_ she murmured.

“Sorry, didn't catch that?” He grinned.

“Yes my lord, late evening bath is near ready,” she snarled back.

“You can’t talk to me like that...” he began but trailed off. Ethna tilted her head at him mulling over his forgotten sentence.

“ ...I am a thrall,” she finished for him. Finally, his sudden change of behaviour made sense. He was worried about his image. In the past two months, as she had gotten to know Ivar, she had observed that he was a very insecure young man. When they were alone he treated her more like a somewhat-friend, but when he was around others he would treat her like she was nothing but a pet or… a daor, how she should have been treated all the time. She thought back to when she had left him. Around him were his older brothers. It would have greatly embarrassed him for her to directly defy him. His brothers might not have even cared, but in Ivars mind, her running off from him reflected that he could not control his own daor, that in turn, implied that he was weak. She let out a ‘huh’ as it all fell into place. He wasn’t actually angry with her, he didn't actually want to cut off her toes, he just wanted to be respected.

“What?” He snapped.

_“Armour,”_ she whispered to herself before turning to meet his gaze, “I will not disrespect you again, I am sorry,” she said sincerely. He stared at her as if stunned for a few moments before he turned away.

“Perhaps I'll forgive you after my bath, which is nonexistent at the moment,” he snapped not meeting her gaze. She smirked, ‘I see you Ivar Ragnarson,’ she thought to herself and tended to the now boiling pots.   

* * *

  “It’s ready,” she called and trudged past him toward his room. He crawled down from his chair and over to the tub, which was set down near the hearth.

“And where do you think you are going?” He inquired slyly.

She turned on her heal and faced him, confusion written on her face, “To bed?”

“Not until you bathe me,” he stated smugly and watched her eyes widen in shock, then squint in rage.

“You are not baby, you bathe yourself!” She gritted.

“I need help to get into the tub, my brothers usually help, but as you can see, they are asleep…”

“You lie,” she snorted and dragged a stool from the kitchen next to the tub, “My brother of twelve can bathe himself, he no use legs,” she hissed gesturing to the stool and mimed climbing up it.

“It wasn’t a request,” he chuckled.  

“I will not,” she took a step back. He scowled. It wasn't that horrible a task, was it? Was she really that disgusted by him.

“What? Are my legs so horrible that do not even want to look at them?” He snapped. She scrunched up her face.

“This is not to do with legs, I have probably saw worse,“ she snorted, “I am woman, you are man, I should not see man naked, it is sinfulness,” she explained. Sinfulness? What kind of word was that? He looked back at her again, examining her carefully. Her hands were clutching the side of her dress, her posture was tense and her breathing shallow, but it was her eyes that gave it away. It seems this meagre task was turning into a suitable punishment. She was terrified.  

He was now sure that Ethna had been corrupted by those Christian men. She probably even thought that their God was greater than her own land’s gods or even believed she was a Christian herself. She probably was afraid to admit their influence on her to him. She needn't worry though, he had already forgiven her. He would fix her. Free her from that confining and backwards religion.

“I don’t think it is,” he replied with a smirk, “But do you know what is sinful?” He asked before answering his own question, “Not doing as I say.” She stayed put, a pleading expression on her face. ‘Please don't make me,’ she seemed to beg silently. A small voice told him to let her go, but it was drowned out by the need to prove himself the master of her. “Undress me,” he ordered. She swallowed, looked down at her feet and shuffled forward.  As she got closer he could see her trembling.  She stood in front of him, unsure what to do first. “It is okay,” he reassured her, taking her wrists and guiding her hand to his tunic. He smiled as he felt her cool hands press against his chest through the fabric. He closed his eyes and imagined a time in the future where at the end of the day she would lovingly undress him and let her hands linger on his chest as he leant forward and captured her lips with his. He imagined sliding her dress over her body and holding her close. He imagined the way she would feel around him as they sat entwined in the tub, water sloshing with their movements. His imagination was interrupted by a small, stifled sob. He opened his eyes and lifted his arms to allow her to pull his tunic off. He sighed. He imagined her doing this willingly.

* * *

   She had done her best to avert her eyes as she had undressed him, turning her head to the side or looking straight past him.

“Look at me Ethna,” he whispered to her once he sat in the tub. She shut her eyes and clenched her fists. “Look at me,” he repeated a few moments later.  She still stood fast.  “Ethna,” he sighed, she ignored him and flung the washcloth in his direction. He sighed as she heard it splash. “Ethna, look at me,” he asked in a tone that sounded almost heartbroken. She furrowed her brow.  She did not know what possessed her as she cracked open her sealed lids and relented to the prince’s request. Her eyes sinfully betrayed her as they dragged up his visible body. Drinking in his beautiful chest, strong arms and long, loose hair. She swallowed when she finally met his eyes. The devil smiled at her and beckoned her closer. She mindlessly obliged. “Come, join me,” he tempted. With those words, she snapped out of the trance and stepped back.

“No,” the word shakily left her lips.

Ivar’s grinned faded, “Eth…”

“No.” She uttered firmly.  He surged forward and gripped her wrist before she could retreat. She panicked and tried tugging free.

“It’s not that hard!” He yelled and pulled her forward, “Just get in the tub!” She wrenched back and tears began to leak down her face as terrible memories reared their monstrous heads.

“No, please! Not again!” She wailed. He stilled, then, he released her. Ethna caught her breath and calmed down as he shrunk back in the tub.

After a moment of silence, Ivar muttered a barely audible: “You can go.”  Ethna stood there in shock, feet still planted. Ivar raised his head and glared at her, “LEAVE ME!” He screamed. Ethna did not think twice as she scrambled out of the living room and into the bedroom, catching a glimpse of Ubbe eavesdropping from behind his bedroom divider.

* * *

Ethna lay facing the wall with her arms wrapped around herself, pretending to sleep. She cried silently as she prayed that God and Fabian would forgive her.  It had been around an half hour since he had screamed at her.  She knew exactly what she had done to upset him this time and she didn't care. She would not willingly betray Fabian like that, ever. She had already let her curiosity lead her astray. She shivered as repressed memories of her first night in Kattegat flooded her thoughts.  ‘Calm down, it's over,  he's not going to hurt you,’ her mind whispered to her, but a dreaded knot formed in her stomach as another voice whispered, ‘You don't know that.’

She cringed when she heard the door creak and the rhythmic dragging as Ivar entered the room. She squeezed her eyes shut and consciously slowed her breathing. She froze when she heard him halt at her bedside. ‘Go away, go away, go away, go away…’ she prayed over and over.   

“I promised you it would never happen again,” she heard him whisper, “I hope you know I meant that.” She held back a gasp as he dragged himself over into his bed muttering. “Great, now just say something far more clever and apologetic when she's awake you idiot, you ruin everything...” he snarled to himself. Ethna felt her muscles relax and a small smile tug at her lips. Soon after she was able to drift off, intending to test Ruth’s theory.

* * *

 Ivar shot awake to the sound of a blood-curdling scream. His eyes darted around until he found the source. He threw off the covers and hit the floor urgently.

“Ivar!” The door flew open and Ubbe stumbled in, hastily pulling his pants on backwards, “What did you do?!”

“Nothing!” He replied and frantically pulled himself up on Ethna’s bed.  She let out another scream and began to writhe.

_“NOOO WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THEM!”_

“Ethna?” Ivar shook her, but she did not wake. Hvitserk and Margrethe rushed into the room half dressed and hair wild.

“What’s wrong with her?” Hvitserk yawned. Ivar continued to shake her and called out her name, but Ethna only responded in pained whimpers and erratic movement.

“She’s not waking up,” Ivar muttered. Ubbe stepped forward and tried to rouse her, but instead received a horse scream.

_“STOP PLEASE! YOU’RE HURTING ME! LET ME GO!”_

“She is not waking up,” Ivar repeated again. “Ethna, wake up, it's just a dream,” he gripped her shoulders and shook her again. Ethna screamed in agony and convulsed. “She’s not waking up, she's not waking up,” he began to panic, “Ubbe! Help me! She's not waking up!”   

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	26. Living Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ethna finally confronts The Woman from her dreams, things do not turn out as expected. Ethna is tossed into a dangerous living nightmare. Meanwhile, Ivar is left perplexed and anxious as a strange sickness take hold of his thrall. Burdened with regret, Ivar wonders if he'll ever get the chance to make it up to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, main character death, blood, graphic death, drowning, massacre.

* * *

She rose up from the dirt and slowly wandered around the strange village. It was familiar as it was like Leamh, yet, it was foreign as it had buildings she recognised from Kattegat. It was eerily quiet too, there was not a soul around. Ethna had the distinct feeling she was forgetting something. She didn't know where she was or how she got there but, she knew neither of those things were what she had forgotten. She thought hard for a moment as she tried to orientate herself; there was something she had to do. That was what she had forgotten.

She walked down the empty street and found Fabian’s home, with the washing still strung out the front and the pale blue flowers his mother loved in bloom. It had been so long since she had seen him, she didn't know why she hadn't visited him. He just lived down the road, she could just knock on the door and ask for him?

“I can't,” she answered herself. “I can't because this isn't real, this is a dream,” she murmured. Still, she wondered if she could see him, just for a while… No, her mind scolded and she retracted her hand from the door. She had to see someone else, she remembered now. The Woman, that's what she had to do, that was who she had to try and talk to.

“Hello! I want to talk with you!” Ethna yelled at nobody in particular as she drifted aimlessly through the familiar buildings. “Please, my name is Ethna, I believe you are trying to show me something, but I don't really understand what,” she shrugged swivelling her head around looking for her, but found nothing. “You don't have to come out, you can just speak… like you do sometimes…”Ethna suggested half-heartedly as she searched around feeling more and more ridiculous as the moments passed. She found a large stone, sat down and waited. And waited. And waited some more. “I won't hurt you, I just want to talk,” Ethna tried. Still, there was nothing.  She sighed, this was stupid.

“You could not harm me, even if you wished to,” a crisp, cold voice echoed around her. Ethna’s gaze met The Woman’s and Ethna did her best to smile. The Woman gave her own smile, but it was a lot more sinister than it should be for someone who just wanted to talk.  

“W-who are you?” Ethna asked and took a step back.

“I have played guide for far too long, I have tried and tried to direct your fate and yet the gods torment me,  you worm your way through everything like the Christian snake you are! Why can’t I get rid of you?!” She questioned. Ethna took another step back and raised her hands in surrender.

“Look, I am sorry, I really am, but I honestly have no clue what I have done to you, I don’t even know you, I am sure we can just talk-”

“But finally the gods have allowed you into my domain, finally I will set things right,” she said with determination.

“Good, let’s set things right then, starting with who are you and what have I done to you?” Ethna tried. The Woman just closed her kohl-lined eyes and chuckled. There was a fierce wind as the sky blackened. Massive waves tumbled in from every direction. Ethna let out a panicked scream as the waves bared down on her, pushing her under.

“I will destroy you Ethna, from the inside out, I will do what he is too weak and bewitched to do!” The woman's voice echoed all around her, resonating under water.

* * *

 

Ethna clawed her way to the surface, dodging pieces of driftwood and other debris. She gasped for air as she broke the surface, finding herself in the open ocean as thunder and lightning rained down. She struggled to tread water in the tumultuous sea.

“You never listen to me!” A familiar voice shouted. She turned around to see a fleet of longships battling against the wind.

“Well I thought you were lying!” This voice was easily identifiable; Ivar.

“I would never lie about something like this to you Ivar!” She knew that familiar voice; it was her own. “I told you to wait three days, I told you this would happen but you never listen! You just ignore me!”

“I thought you were trying to stall!” He screamed back, “I thought you were going to leave me again! What do you mean I ignore you?!” What was she seeing? What was happening?

“I only tried to leave because you didn’t care about me anymore- “

“Now is not really the time for this!” Ivar yelled.

“NO now is the time for this! You treated me like I was invisible Ivar!” She continued to rave and somehow, if possible, the storm worsened.

“That is a blatant lie!” Ivar accused.

“Lie? It is you who lie! You said you loved me! Lies! All of it! You never loved me!” She watched herself scream at Ivar like a banshee. Both of them were soaked, shivering and clinging on to the sides of the boat.

“What is this?” Ethna questioned the air hoping The Woman would answer.

“Keep watching,” The Woman sneered.

“I never lied to you! I do lov-”  Ivar was cut off as another familiar voice screamed out above the chaos.

“WAVE ON PORT SIDE!” Helfrim warned. Ethna turned and saw nothing but a wall of water barreling towards the ship. She whimpered. She turned back to the boat and watched as the crew frantically tried to right the boat into a headlong position. Ethna then spotted a mop of dark hair scurry across the deck, struggling with the ropes whipping around in the wind.

“No!” She voiced and started to paddle furiously towards the boat, but she knew she wouldn’t make it.

“BRACE YOURSELVES!” Helfrim ordered. The crew scrambled to grab hold of anything.

“Esegar!” She heard the other Ethna scream as the boy crashed to the deck after being knocked aside in the fray. She lunged towards Esegar, reaching for his hand.

“Ethna!” Ivar panicked and yanked her back by her waist while gripping the side of the boat, shielding them as the wave descended.

“NO!” Both Ethna’s cried at once as the wave pummelled the boat. She herself was pushed under with such force she doubted she could reach the surface in time. She opened her eyes to see bodies sinking into the abyss below her. She let out a garbled cry when she recognised the mangled and broken body of the boy still reaching out towards her tangled in the ropes of the mast.

“See what happens, you can’t save him,” The Woman whispered. The water muffled her anguish as she cried out and swam down towards her lifeless friend. However, The Woman had other plans as she was dragged up out of the water and flung to solid ground.

* * *

 

“Stay down if you know what’s good for you,” a man ordered her. Ethna groaned and rolled over blinking in the sun. “Where’s the queen and the cripple’s spawn?”

“Who?” She asked dumbly. She suddenly felt a sharp point on her shoulder.

“Don’t make me ask again!” The man snarled at her, digging his sword into her flesh. Ethna gasped out in pain.

“Right here, you daft bastard, now step away from my handmaid,” A stern voice ordered. She looked slightly different, as if she had gained weight and grown out her hair, but it was definitely her.

“Ruth?” She questioned and pushed herself up away from the man's blade. Ruth didn’t look at her, instead, she remained focused on the towering man who now had the sword pointed to Ruth's chest. Ethna sprung to her feet and rushed the man, there was no way she would let Ruth get hurt too. However, when Ethna shoved the man her hands passed clean through him. What was this?

“Where are your children?” The man demanded.

“Where you’ll never find them,” Ruth spat.

“Ruth…” A voice wheezed. Ethna turned back around to see a strange likeness of herself still slumped on the ground, bruised and battered. This Ethna had longer hair and had more muscle, there was something about her face that was different too. It then struck her; this Ethna looked older.

“Shh… Ruth, it’s over now, there is no point in trying to protect me, you have done your duty,” Ruth said. Ethna frowned in confusion at the scene before her.

“No… I am the queen, I am Ethna, don’t hurt her...” Older Ethna moaned from the ground and watched as the man swivelled his head between the two women.

“It’s okay, Ruth, It’s okay...” Ruth reassured. The man made up his mind and raised his sword. It was then Ethna realized what was happening. She fought harder, even picking up rocks and sticks to throw at him but nothing she did had any effect.

“Noo… Take me! KILL ME!” The wounded Ethna screamed and clawed her way toward the man. She heard The Woman laugh behind her, watching on as she screamed in frustration trying to hold the man back as her limbs passed through him.

“NO!” She cried, realising that she couldn’t stop this.  

“We’ll find your children and end the misery your husband has brought to Eire,” the man sneered and thrust his sword clean through Ruth's chest. Ruth just responded with a pained laugh.

“You and your king... have invoked the wrath of... not only the entire Heathen Army... but the Desi... the Mac Cuirtin and importantly... the Uí Ímair... you’re dead...dead,” she coughed as blood dribbled out of the corner of her mouth, “...Dead.”

“No…” the other Ethna sobbed.

“You, go to your king, give him the body of his wife, tell him Máel Sechnaill sends his condolences,” he spat as he flung Ruth's body down towards her.

“You are useless, see how you can't do anything right, you did this, it's your fault,” The Woman hissed. No, no, no. What was this? Some kind of hell?  Ethna watched her older self cry and grapple at Ruth as if she was trying to rouse her from sleep.

Multiple hands suddenly clutched her and dragged her back. Ethna screamed, she couldn't take any more of this. She struggled and thrashed as she felt herself being dragged into another hellscape. In front of her, she saw The Woman, standing tall and beautiful, smiling a wicked smile at her. She was doing this. She was controlling this dream.

“NOOO WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THEM!” Ethna demanded and struggled to fight against unseen hands, refusing to be taken to the next scene of this nightmare. The hands then grew invisible claws that tore into her flesh like hundreds of tiny daggers. She let out a scream of agony.

“STOP PLEASE! YOU’RE HURTING ME! LET ME GO!” She wailed. “Please no more, stop please.”

“Don't fight it, girl, it will make it so much worse for you, but, I won’t lie, I do like to see you suffer,” The Woman grinned. Ethna let out a whimper and slumped. What had she ever done to this woman?

* * *

 

Ivar was at a loss. He had tried everything. Yelling at her, shaking her, slapping her face, dumping water on her head, yet she remained in the grip of sleep. He even resorted to something he knew she would never allow; grabbing her arse. He somehow hoped that she was just pretending, that after such an action she would shoot up right and slap him, but to his dismay, nothing happened. She just kept murmuring, squirming and crying out.  He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her and stared, what else could he do?

Ubbe appeared behind him offering some breakfast around mid-morning.

“There's been no change?” He asked dismally. Ivar shook his head. Ubbe sighed and handed the bowl to him.  “Do you want to get a healer?”

“No, I can not be seen fetching a healer for a slave Ubbe,” he began but stopped to consider his brother's words. Perhaps he should, he had never seen anything like this. “This is my fault-”  

“How could this be your fault?” Ubbe interrupted.

“Maybe it's not, but Ubbe...” he hesitated, “What if she doesn't wake up, the last thing she will remember me is… is… last night, I-I-don't want her to think of me like that…” He trailed off when he realised that Ubbe didn't know what had transpired. Some part of him was relieved that his big brother didn't know because he knew; if Ubbe found out, he would be so disappointed in him. “I mean… Last night I yelled at her for being disobedient and I just think that would be bad terms to part on,” he said trying to satisfy any curiosity his brother may have.

Ubbe snorted in disbelief, “You think I don't know what you did?” Ivar swallowed. “Ivar, I saw everything, in fact, I would be surprised if our neighbours didn't have an inkling of what you did you screeched at her that loudly,” Ubbe said with a disappointed scowl. “To say you treated her poorly last night Ivar is an understatement, you threatened her, you forced her to do something she was clearly terrified of doing and you shamed her,” Ubbe recounted to him as that awful guilt crept up and began gnawing again, but Ubbe wasn't finished, “And on top of that you expected her to join you in the bath? You royally fucked up everything two months achieved in half an hour.”

“You think I didn't know that Ubbe?!” He snapped.

“Good,” Ubbe said. “You already know you made a mistake and you acknowledge it, that's good progress since last time,” he commented and stood waiting expectantly.

Ivar sighed in defeat, “What should I do to make it right?”

“What makes you think I would want to help you after how you've treated me these past few days?” Ubbe said with a shrug. His jaw dropped. Now Ubbe was just being cruel.

“I apologised for threatening you, but you deserted me! You refused to help me plan our revenge on Lagertha, the revenge we have been thirsting for for over a year now! Together Ubbe! Now when the time comes to avenge our mother, you leave me!? Of course I am not going to greet you with a smile and act like we are old chums because; you betrayed me, and it hurt, and to be honest I haven't forgiven you,” he ranted. Ubbe stood, somewhat shocked by his outburst as Ivar continued, “Now here I come to you, humbling myself, putting aside my pride asking for your help, so please, help me.”

Ubbe lent back and stroked his beard in silence.

“Well she seemed to be warming up to you lately, so, I suggest you do whatever you were doing before you went ahead and thought with your prick,” he suggested. Ivar wanted to be angry that his brother would talk to him in such a way, but he only managed to feel ashamed.“I also suggest you apologise deeply to her, perhaps give her a gift, maybe even consider freeing her-”

“Absolutely not!” He objected. That was the one thing he was not willing to do.

“Well maybe perhaps treating her as you would a uh... beloved concubine, not just like… like a common thrall, here you go, here's a gift idea, some nice new dresses, it is starting to get cold, look at those rags, she’ll freeze if she continues to wear them,” Ubbe said. “Look, I don't have the answers, I can't be certain that what I say will work but that's all I got, you made a big mistake, so you gotta put in extra effort to fix it, but I think it would benefit you greatly to try to be friends before you try to be something else.” Ivar nodded and sighed gazing at the woman that mattered more to him than any other. He would fix this, he would fix them, but for now, he had to make sure she was cared for.

“Ubbe, would you fetch a healer?” he finally asked.

“Certainly Ivar,” his brother nodded and smirked proudly at him before turning and leaving. He turned back to Ethna, who now had sweat collecting on her brow as she murmured foreign words. He had never seen or heard about a sickness like this. It seemed almost familiar but again, he sensed something off about this. He knew this was the work of the gods. He prayed to his gods that the healer could help. If they could not he would offer a sacrifice or perhaps try some rune magic Floki had taught him.

Floki would know what to do, he thought to himself. He smiled sadly at the thought of the old man. He would have loved to meet Ethna, he hoped. Even though he was certain now that she was a Christian, she still had redeeming qualities that would impress his mentor. She, like Floki, seemed to be a trickster and master of wit, yet she was also kind and thoughtful like Helga.

“If they were still around, I would introduce you to Floki and Helga,” he told her, swiping his thumb across her cheek, “They would have loved you,” he said as he reached her braid and unbound her dark locks as if it would ease her discomfort. “Floki would be skeptical at first, but he would change his mind if he learnt that you like to hear the tales of our gods, he would build you a seat in my chariot so you don't have to cling to the side for dear life everytime I take you for a ride,” he chuckled. Ethna groaned and scrunched her face up in pain. “And Helga, you’d like her, she’d want to adopt you, she would love you and fill the void the death of your mother left you with,” he told her. Ethna grew silent and still and Ivar took the opportunity to hold her hand. “I will find out what's wrong with you, I will, okay? Then I will make this better, I'll make it up to you,” he whispered and lifted her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He felt a little self-conscious talking to someone who couldn't talk back, but it felt right. He needed to be here for her, even though he knew she wouldn't want him.

* * *

 

The pain was unbearable. It was not physical pain that she could treat, no, she knew this was heartbreak. Esegar and Ruth, both were dead or would die and she could've saved them. The Woman was right, she was useless. Even with this gift, it changed nothing; Ardney’s death was prophesied and yet, Ethna couldn’t stop it. She didn’t want this. She would rather be ignorant. Knowing was torture. To know the future, but only partially, was excruciating and The Woman knew this, she was doing this on purpose, but why? She looked up at the sky and wailed as tears sprung from her eyes.

“What have I done to you? I am sorry but I don’t know! I am sorry!” She yelled at the air. She recognised the building she was in now, it was the small, dingy wooden church she was so familiar with.

“Why have you brought me here?” There was no answer. “What do you want?!” She screamed.

“I tried so hard to engrain a hatred for your kind into him ever since the gods warned me about you; the Christian, the slave, the seer, the wraith, the doe, the queen,” she spat. “He should have killed you,” the woman said after appearing from thin air. “I had your fate fixed, Floki taught him well, I taught him well, he was to be a killer of Christians, you were supposed to die, but you-” The Woman seethed and stalked forward and gripped Ethna by her braid, yanking her to a kneeling position. “You! Ruined! Everything! You cast a spell on him, I don't know how, I don't know about your Gaelic witchery, but I know you did, there is no way I failed to teach him! It's your fault and you will pay!” She screeched.  

“You don't make any sense!” Ethna gritted and wrapped her wrist around The Woman's and sprung up. Taking a step into her, she twisted The Woman’s wrist as she threw her off balance; a manoeuvre that Seumas had taught her. The Woman stumbled backwards and let go of Ethna’s braid.  When The Woman regained her balance, she stared wide-eyed at her in surprise and she faded away.

“Coward! Face me!” Ethna growled. She was sick of this, she just wanted to wake up.

“Coward?” Her voice laughed, “That’s funny, I was going to say the same thing,” she said. Outside somewhere she heard a commotion. “Oh, do you need reminding?”

“What is this?” Ethna demanded as the screaming intensified.

“Your past, or should I say, the past you ran from,” The Woman said as the church door burst open.

“Quick we don’t have much time,” A familiar voice ordered as her kinsmen filed past him with grim and teary faces.

“No,” Ethna protested.

“Did you ever wonder Ethna, whose idea it was? Did you wonder who exactly killed your father?”

“No! Please, I don’t want to watch this!”

“Did you ever wonder what fate you avoided by running like a coward?”

“Stop.” She begged. She wanted to shut her eyes but she couldn’t. She rattled with sobs as she saw her brothers enter last and turn to Fabian.

“Will God forgive us?” Brennan asked.

“He forgave David and Paul, both murderers, however, this is not murder, it’s mercy, I know it will be hard but what choice do we have? This is the only way,” Fabian muttered solemnly. No. No, Fabian wouldn't have come up with this, he couldn’t have, he just couldn’t. Ethna whimpered as she watched the women shakily kneel down, in front of their husbands, brothers and fathers. She watched the mothers hold their children to their breasts and murmur prayers and goodbyes. There, in the far corner, she spotted Fabian’s mother holding her husband’s hand as Fabian’s father lined the blade up to her throat. She made out the words on his lips as he slid the blade and opened the red floodgate. I love you; Women crumpled to the floor gurgling and sputtering. I love you; Children’s cries were silenced. I love you; broken men whispered. I love you; half her clan was dead.

Ethna couldn’t even find it within herself to scream. Finally, for a moment she was able to close her eyes and escape the carnage. She wept, and wept, and wept.

There was eerie silence, then, she heard the familiar clicking of wood on packed earth. She opened her eyes and saw her father. She felt the bile rise in her throat. It was sick. She shouldn’t, but one morbid part of her wondered. So, she watched, unable to pull her eyes away.

“Who’s it gonna be boys?” He hobbled to where Eoin and Brennan stood. With difficulty, he knelt and neatly laid his cane next to him.    

“Father, no,” Brennan whimpered.

“What, you think I can fight? You think I can help you find Ethy afterwards? You are kidding yourself boys, come on, put me out of my misery, send me to your mother,” Cuirtin said.

“Da,” Eoin held the knife in shaky hands, “I don’t think I can.”

“I’ll do it,” a voice behind them announced. “But I have to ask you something first...”

“NOOO!” Ethna screamed in horror. This was far worse than she anticipated.

“Certainly boy, make it quick,” her father chuckled. The young man unsheathed his knife and placed it at Cuirtin’s throat.

“May I marry your daughter when this is over?” Fabian asked.

“If she agrees, I give you my blessing, son,” he nodded. And those were the last words that her father uttered before her beloved slit his throat.

* * *

 

“Can you at least shut her up?” Margrethe whined and nursed her head.

“If I had it my way Margrethe, you would’ve had your tongue removed long ago, so if I can put up with your incessant yapping every day, then you can endure Ethna’s screams for just one,” Ivar bit back savagely. He had to admit though, that mewling goat of a woman had a point. It hurt to hear her like this. He wanted to be by her side but the healer insisted that his presence would only aggravate things, she needed more time to commune with the gods. He was right to be worried though, the healer said in all her years she had never seen this before. Ivar busied himself by playing a game of hnefatafl against an imaginary opponent.  He had almost won when the healer emerged.

“Well?” Ivar gestured for the old woman to speak.

“I was unsuccessful at waking her, this is no sickness I know, I believe this to be magic of some kind, I fear she is in the gods' hands now,” she said and made for the door.

“What should we do then?” Ivar asked trying to remain in control of his fury.

“I suggest that after a few days, if she doesn't wake up naturally, you should put her out of her misery, it is clear whatever realm she is trapped in is not a pleasant one and she will die of thirst and hunger eventually, but I suggest that you do not be so cruel and allow her suffering to continue longer than necessary.”  Ivar swallowed as the healer hastily left. He glanced at Ubbe and Hvitserk to see them quietly conversing in the corner. He narrowed his eyes. They glanced in his direction and then turned back to their conversation.

“What are you two talking about?” He asked. Ubbe and Hvitserk shared a look before Hvitserk sighed and headed towards the door.

“Ivar, come with me, there is something I should tell you,” he said and gestured outside. Ivar raised his eyebrows and crawled after his brother.

* * *

 

What was this about? He thought to himself as he followed his brother outside and around the side of the house to the stump where they split wood.

“Why so secretive Hvitserk?”

“I don't want Margrethe to hear, she may freak out-”

“Freak out about what?” Ivar interrupted. Hvitserk glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Ivar frowned, if Hvitserk was serious, things were grim.

“I had my suspicions Ivar, Ubbe did too, but this… this just confirms it,” Hvitserk stammered.

“Speak plainly brother, I don't understand,” Ivar shook his head.

“Ivar, do you remember at The Seer’s funeral, how Ethna got drunk?”

“Of course I do.” How could he forget?

“Ethna did something, when she was drunk, when Ubbe and I found her and stopped the fight, she said something strange and then started behaving weirdly,” he began vaguely as if trying to string his thoughts together “Now, at first it wasn’t too strange, she cursed at us and uh… said some colourful things about you-”

“What kind of things?” He asked.

“I umm... don’t recall exactly, but it was just drunken nonsense, half of it wasn’t even in Norse, but, when I laughed at her, she changed, it was as if I was speaking to a different person,” he recounted. Ivar listened with growing curiosity. “Ivar, she gave three prophecies, in clear, fluent Norse, it scared the life out Ubbe and I, we didn’t know what to do, then, like magic she was back to herself, swearing at us and stumbling around in a state, we wanted to brush it off as a coincidence, but after this… Ivar, there is something about Ethna, I don’t know what, but there's more there than meets the eye,” Hvitserk concluded.

“What were the prophecies?” Ivar asked.

“She said: Death shall knock thrice before he enters, The Raven will win the battle but The White Stag will bathe in the spoils of war, and they who crawl shall rise above kings holding a wooden throne with strength a thousand strong,  she also said that these would be dire times…”

Ivar sat and thought deeply about what he heard, specifically the last prophecy. He would rise above kings; who else crawled around? He, however, was sceptical, not because he underestimated his ability, no. He knew he very well could rise above kings. It was the fact that his slave, the gentle, skittish, Christian had the gift of prophecy? He always knew there was something more to her, but this was a bit far-fetched.

“But that’s impossible only the gods can give prophecy, she is a Christian, only a person devoted to our gods or a Seer could…” The Seer. He died as soon as he laid eyes on Ethna. What if that wasn’t a coincidence? What if The Seer somehow passed his gift to her? No that was impossible. She couldn’t be a seer, could she? He suddenly began to put little pieces of the puzzle together; he had heard her talk in her sleep and he had seen her have nightmares, she also seemed to be easily spooked by seemingly random things and events. He felt chilled to the bone when he realized that she did all those things even before The Seer died. His mind raced,  she could heal people, she was far wiser than her years it was like… Ivar took a sharp inhale as he came to the conclusion that she was not a seer, she was a Völva, like his mother.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that wasn't too wied]rd for you guys :/ any I would just like to make a point that Ethna is not actually a Völva, she doesn't practice Seiðr (magic) that is just what Ivar thinks and he can compare her to in his culture.  
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	27. Cracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethna, is still stuck in her own vision as The Woman continues to torment her. In the meantime, after failing to check Esegar in the morning, Ruth investigates where her friend has disappeared to and confronts Ubbe. On the other front, Ivars plans for yule are put in jeopardy after Runi delivers some bad news. With Ethna in such a state and his plan shake, Ivar wonders if this day could get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, talk of death, blood, death, depression, implied suicide, psychological manipulation.
> 
> In loving memory of George Eli Wood 1928-2018. (more notes at the end)

* * *

She watched from behind a woodpile. Through the window, she saw Margethe pace back and forth talking with Hvitserk. She had seen Ivar and Hvitserk enter the house as she arrived. Ivar had disappeared from sight into a room that she could not see. That was where her screaming was coming from. That must be where they were keeping her. Ruth boiled with rage at the thought of what that monster must have done to her to have her still screaming after a whole day. She knew something was wrong when, by noon, she hadn't appeared to check up on Esegar. When Seumas mentioned that she had left with him yesterday without asking for Ivar’s permission, Ruth inferred what had happened.

As soon as her master dismissed her at sunset she ran to the Ragnarsons’ house and peered through the window hoping to catch a glance of her to at least know if Ethna was still alive. The occasional screams confirmed that she was, in fact, still alive. It was obvious that Ivar had been overzealous with his punishment. She knew he would be, she had heard the horrific tales of his raids in England. Now Ruth was, if possible, filled with more anxiety not knowing what he had done or was doing to her. Although she knew she would not like what she saw, she just had to know, she just had to see her.

Ruth stared back at the window and still saw Hvitserk and Margrethe by the fire. Still in the same spot. Ivar was still unseen, probably torturing Ethna in that room. Ubbe was… Hang on, Ruth thought to herself.  
“Where’s Ubbe?” She muttered. She hadn’t seen him in a while. Where did he get- A rough hand clapped over her mouth and a heavyweight pinned her to the ground.  
“Right here,” he smirked. She let out a frustrated growl and bit down on his hand. “Ow! Okay, I probably deserved that-”  
“Probably? How ‘bout definitely,” Ruth spat and shot up off the ground. His stupid grin faded into a hurt look. “Don’t look at me like that, you don’t get to do that to me, not anymore.”  
“I see,” Ubbe sighed, “Look I am Sorry Ruth-”  
“No you’re not,” she laughed, “But It’s fine, really, I understand now, I was just some ‘thing’ to pass the time till someone prettier and blonder came along, I was just a piece of cunt with no feelings, a stupid thrall who believed that ‘I love you’ actually meant something. But it was just a joke, just a fun time. It’s fine, I get it.”  
“Ruth… I…” he seemed lost for words. She avoided his blue eyes, they were what had drawn her into the mess in the first place. She would never admit it, but it still hurt every time she saw him.

“What are you doing, sneaking around anyway?” He suddenly remembered the reason he was there.  
“I came to see if my friend is okay,” Ruth said.  
“Ethna?” Ubbe guessed.  
“She’s not, isn’t she?” Ruth said biting her lip.  
Ubbe shook his head, “No, something’s wrong with her-”  
“Wrong with her? You mean Ivar didn’t... ” Ruth tilted her head and trailed off.  
“Do something? No, well not today, last night he uh, reprimanded her,” he finished, “But now he's attached to her bedside, grim as can be, hoping she wakes up. We got no idea what to do. We called a healer, she had no clue, some kind of magic, it's beyond her, she said.”  
“Wake up? You mean she’s asleep? And still screaming like tha-” Ruth abandoned her sentence and her face fell gaunt. “Oh no,” she gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Ethna must have taken her advice, but somehow it had gone wrong. She had made things worse. “This is my fault, oh gods!” She cried and her hand flew to her head as she gripped her braids tightly.  
“Ruth, what do you mean?” Ubbe asked.  
“l...l... Can't explain it to you Ubbe, you wouldn't understand-” She stammered. Ubbe gripped her shaking shoulders and stared her in the face.  
“Just tell me, Ruth,” Ubbe began calmly, “Is Ethna a seer?”

Ruth took a long breath, calming down and looking back at the man she once adored, “Of some sort, yes, I believe so,” she nodded. “She's done something similar the first night she was here, when I first met her,” Ruth continued with uncertainty, “My mother was similar...”  
“Yes, I remember, you told me,” Ubbe nodded, “You think she may be having a vision?”  
“I don't know for sure, but I think so, I'd have to see her to be sure…” she stammered.  
Ubbe cocked his head as a thought came to him,“Would you like to see her?”  
“Yes,” she nodded without hesitation.

* * *

 He couldn’t understand most of what she said. She had only taught him how to count and a few words in Gaeilge like: máthair; which meant mother, athair; meaning father, cúallacht; was family, to; meant yes. Now, he was now hearing her scream over and over another word she had taught him; náthó, which meant no. It rattled something inside him. It made his skin crawl. He hated whatever was doing this to her but more than that; he hated being able to do nothing but sit and watch.  
There was a knock behind him and he reluctantly dragged his eyes away from her, lest the moment he turned his back she would disappear.

“What is it?” He growled at the door.  
“She has a visitor,” Ubbe announced and opened the door before he could protest. A dark-skinned woman cautiously tailed his older brother into his room. “This is Ruth,” Ubbe introduced, “She is one of Ethna’s friends.”  
“Oh, so now we’re letting random thralls into our home-” He began snarkily before Ubbe cut him off.  
“She has seen Ethna in one of these states before, her own mother was similar, she may be able to help, if, you show her some respect,” Ubbe butted in. Ivar shut his gaping mouth quickly and looked away from her.  
“Very well then,” he shifted further up the bed until he sat against the headboard next to Ethna. “Fix her,” he gestured, “What good to me is a thrall who cannot work?” He spat at the woman. He saw Ubbe’s eye roll and responded with one of his own. Yes he cared for Ethna, and now he was certain enough to even say he loved her, but he wasn’t ready for everyone to know that. Him, Ivar the Boneless, scourge of the world, ruthless leader of The Great Heathen Army in love with a Christian thrall? He’d be a laughing stock, especially because the feeling was not mutual. He could see it now; Ivar the Boneless can have the world, can conquer anything his heart desires, except that Gaelic thrall, he can’t have her, what a joke. Who would follow someone that seemed so weak and foolish?

His new weakness was also another problem. War was brewing and if an enemy found out that his heart belonged to Ethna, a defenceless thrall, she would be put in mortal danger. He couldn't bear the thought of someone using her against him. If an enemy captured and threatened to kill her, he knew he could never meet their terms. His men wouldn’t follow a leader who would risk everything to save a thrall. If a situation like that arose, Ethna would be as good as dead, and that was his worst fear; adding more people he loved to the list of people he has lost.

He watched the woman shuffle forward and lightly tapped her face, “Ethna?”  
“Oh, you think we didn’t try that?” He sneered. Ruth, unperturbed continued to study Ethna carefully. Ethna began to murmur unintelligibly. Ruth knitted her brows. Ethna went silent again and began to thrash. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand shaking dangerously close to the flames of the lamp on the bedside table. Acting quickly, he grabbed her and hauled her up against his chest and wrapped his arms around her chest, pinning her hands to her sides. Weakly, she wiggled and struggled. She was getting tired, he observed. Eventually, she stopped and fell limp against him and began murmuring again.

“Has she been murmuring all day?” Ruth asked.  
“Yes,” Ivar nodded, “And screaming.”  
“Has she been saying anything you can understand?” Ruth inquired.  
“No, I haven’t understood anything but ‘no’, but she’s speaking Gaeilge, I am sure of that,” he said and looked down at the sleeping woman. She felt so cold in his arms. Frowning, he pulled the furs up around them. He looked back up to see Ruth with a stunned expression on her face, “What? She is freezing, I don’t want her to lose a limb to the cold, she’d be useless,” he growled. He heard a snort from Ubbe across the room. Ivar glared daggers at him and Ubbe took that as his cue to leave. “So what is wrong with her?” He turned back to Ruth. The woman bit her lip and bowed her head in thought.

“She is having a vision,” she announced finally, “but not a common one.”  
“What do you mean?” He asked  
“I have never had a vision, all I know is from what my mother described to me when I was young but what I do know is; the more afraid my mother was before closing her eyes… the more powerful the vision,” Ruth sighed. Ivar swallowed guiltily. “But usually my mother's visions only lasted for the night, they didn’t continue into the day, except for one exception,” Ruth recounted, “When spirits visited her.”  
“What?” Ivar looked at Ethna’s crumpled face and then the woman with confusion. Was that even possible? “What makes you think that?” He asked.  
“Ethna shared with me that a woman kept appearing in her dreams, one who gave her prophecy, ” Ruth stuttered as her lip began to wobble, “Her speech,” Ruth paused as Ethna began to mumble again, “She says something, then pauses, then talks again, as if she is having a conversation.”  
“But she has been asleep all day?” Ivar pointed.  
“Yes,” Ruth nodded grimly, “Which is why I believe that Ethna can’t wake up, she’s stuck in her own vision with a malevolent spirit.”

Ivar looked back Ethna with worry, “How do we stop it?”  
“We can't,” Ruth sighed, “Only she can stop it.”  
“What does a malevolent spirit do? Will she be okay? Can she die in there?” Ivar shot question after question.  
Ruth held her hands up in surrender, “I don’t know!” She snapped then hung her head and sighed, “I don’t know,” she repeated in a quieter tone. “But if there’s one thing I am sure of, it’s that Ethna is strong, she’ll figure something out, she will come back to us, all you can do is just look after her-”

The door was flung open. This time Hvitserk burst through with Runi in tow. Now what?  
“We really need to talk about...Oh, Ruth? You’re still here?” Hvitserk trailed off.  
“Just leaving,” Ruth nodded, seeing that she was not wanted. She gave Ethna one last glance before gently shutting the door on the way out.  
“What is it? I was not aware my room was declared a marketplace,” Ivar asked his brother, highly irritated. Hvitserk didn’t answer, he just stood staring at Ivar. No, actually, he was staring at Ivar clutching Ethna to his chest. Hvitserk raised an eyebrow asking for an explanation.  
“She was going to burn herself,” he shrugged in defence. He felt an intense gaze from somewhere else in the room and turned his head to catch Runi quickly averting her eyes and hiding her venomous expression.  
“But... she's stopped now,” Hvitserk pointed out.  
“Well, I actually find this quite comfortable, so I am enjoying it while it lasts, but never mind her, what is so important you had to come barging into my room, hm?” Ivar questioned and tightened his hold on Ethna posessively.  
“Runi’s got an important message from Helfrim,” Hvitserk beckoned Runi forward.  
“Well?” Ivar pried.

“Our plan for the brother’s to arrive during Yule’s festivities with their men as if they are passing through, will have to change. Lagertha is suspicious. Helfrim believes she has got wind of our plans,” Runi said with a grim expression, “Helfrim will send a message to her cousins, we will have to meet again and soon. She was asking where and when?”  
He sat in stern silence. Ivar wanted to be surprised. Really, he did, but unfortunately, betrayal and he were well acquainted.  
“Does Helfrim know who the rat is?” He asked calmly.  
“No, but she is endeavouring to find out. She also believes that I should attend the meeting in her place, no one ever thinks to watch slaves, it would be too risky for Helfrim to ask for leave now, she also says that you should be careful. Lagertha may spy on you now,” Runi supplied.  
“So what do we do brother?” Hvitserk asked earnestly.  
“For starters, we keep our mouths shut. I doubt that someone in this room is a traitor, but rather it is someone close enough to us to have an inkling of our plans. Obviously whoever it is doesn't have many details to share, because if Lagertha was certain of our plans she would’ve killed us,” Ivar said and found himself subconsciously stroking Ethna's arms in contemplation.

He stopped himself and looked back down at her. She groaned and hissed through clenched teeth. Malevolent spirit? Floki would know what to do, he’d know the right rune magic, he would be able to make a totem to protect her, Floki would be... But Floki was gone, he reminded himself. He left him too. Floki, his mentor, his friend, his adoptive uncle, his father where Ragnar wasn’t was gone. Floki the trickster, the boat builder, the recluse… “Floki,” he remarked in surprise as a thought came to him.  
“Floki?” Hvitserk questioned with a quizzical look.  
“Runi, do you know where Floki the boat builder used to live?” He asked.  
“Yes, he made Helfrim’s shield and my master's fishing boat,” Runi said.  
“If you could take this news to the brothers and lead them there, it should be abandoned, Hvitserk and I will go and ‘pay our respects’ to his memory and will meet you there in two days and be back before the first day of Yule,” he put forward. Hvitserk nodded with approval.

“Then I shall inform Helfrim and leave at once,” she turned to leave, “Thank you, and good evening my masters,” Runi recited and scurried out the door.  
“Does Ethna ever call you ‘my master’?” Hvitserk mocked.  
“No, she calls me her lord,” he half boasted, he wasn't going to let his brother know that it was only a sarcastic title.  
“Well then, does my lord wish to have a break? I can watch The Gael for an hour,” he offered. Ivar tensed his jaw. There were somethings he trusted Hvitserk with, but watching Ethna, alone, was never going to be one of them.  
“No, actually I was going to go to sleep,” he replied and purposefully rolled Ethna over next to him and begun to take off his boots and belt, “But thanks for offering,” he salted the wound as he sank down next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. Hvitserk scoffed and left, shutting the door with emphases.

Ivar sighed and blew out the lamp before shuffling over and nestling up against her, trying to get comfortable on the bed only made for one. He wanted to see her when she woke up and he had to make sure she didn't hurt herself by flailing around, that's what he would say to her when she woke up. That would be his excuse, but really, he just wanted to hold her.  
“Ethna, don't give up, you've come too far to do that now, I never tell you this, I hardly ever am kind to you, and I am sorry for that, you are so strong and clever. If you can survive living with me every day then you can survive this…" He told her and held tight against him. He looked at her pained expression on her sleeping face and let out a shaky breath as he held back tears. "Just come back to me, please, I need you more than I care to admit,” he confessed with a whisper and pressed his lips to her forehead.

* * *

 She was gone from the church now. She found herself on her knees, sitting the edge of a frozen lake. She shivered as she stood and hugged her arms around herself.  
“Please... no more, let me go,” she uttered wearily, her breath turning to steam in the air before her. She shivered again and looked down to find herself naked. She let out a scream of shock. Tears leaked from her eyes and crystallized on her cheeks. “Give me back my clothes you hag!” She cried but there was no reply. She swung her head in every direction. Around her forests of bare trees and snowy evergreens dotted the shores of the lake. Behind her, she saw her cloak crumpled in a heap.

She sighed in relief and ran for it, picking up the warm, familiar fabric. She tilted her head in surprise when she found an unfamiliar dress under it. She threw the dress on without hesitation and wrapped her cloak around her and only then took time to admire the garment. It was pale blue, a shade she had always fancied, and it was simple with little decoration save an embroidered chain of flowers around each sleeve, discrete but somewhat elegant, how she liked. However, the most exciting feature was that the dress was thick and woollen, a winter dress, just what she needed now.

Somewhat sheltered from the cold, her feet now ached and burned. She searched desperately for her shoes and spied them hanging from a low branch of a tree a few meters ahead of her. Each step towards them felt like she was treading on thorns. Hissing and wincing, she staggered towards them.  
“Come on say something clever, surely you didn’t drag me here and take my clothes for no reason, what do you want now?” She taunted as she tugged on her shoes and swaddled them with the cloth she found at the base of the tree. “How do you want me to suffer now?” She bit at the air, “Come on let’s get this over with!”

“Yes let’s,” The Woman spoke finally. Ethna turned back to see The Woman standing on the ice beckoning her. “Do you want this to end Ethna?”  
“Yes,” she answered and drifted toward the woman.  
“Follow me, I can show you how to take the pain away, how to end the suffering,” she smiled insincerely and continued to walk backwards.  
“I thought you said you liked to see me suffer,” she snarled bitterly. With rage building in her every step, she stalked after The Woman with purpose.  
“Because what I want and what you want aren’t that different, you wish to protect the ones you love? So do I,” she explained as she kept powering ahead.  
“What must I do to get you to leave me alone?!” Ethna seethed and rushed the woman. She disappeared and reappeared out of her reach a few meters ahead of her. “Who are you?!” She roared and ran at her again. The Woman smirked and disappeared from her reach again.

“You can’t touch me, I thought you would have learnt by now,” The Woman tutted, then evaporated. “But,” her formless voice echoed, “I can touch you.” Ethna sprawled onto the ice after a forceful shove from behind took her by surprise. She groaned and dragged herself up on her knees and braced herself on her elbows as she stole her breath back.  
Bump. She felt and heard something gently bump into the ice below her. She realized the woman had lead onto the thinner ice in the centre of the lake. She took a shaky breath in and began to crawl backwards slowly. Bump. There it was again. Below her, she recognised a blurry shape under the ice. She brushed away the thin layer of snow and screamed in horror. Green, glassy, dead eyes stared back at her. Pale skin tinged blue with cold let off a morbid glow through the ice. She recognised the naked body instantly; it was her’s.

“This is how Ethna,” The Woman materialised next to her and warped an arm around her in a mock-comforting gesture. “This is how you stop the fear, the death, the suffering,” she affirmed. Ethna shook her head. “You don't have to wait for this to happen in the future either, If you choose to die here, it won't be painful, it'll just be like going to sleep and not waking up, don’t worry my sons will ensure you are buried well,” she soothed.  
“No…” Ethna croaked. This couldn’t be how it ended. It just couldn’t. Yet, in front of her was her own corpse, her future, staring at her from under the ice.

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a bit strange to put in a fic but, part of the reason why the last few chapters have been coming out late is that my great-grandfather has been sick in hospital and my family has been looking after him the past 6 months and on Feb 21st he passed. I think it is important to honour and remember him as he told me to write down my ‘little adventures’ I would imagine, and he was the one who thought my poem I wrote in fourth grade was worthy of being published in the retirement village newspaper. So I dedicate this chapter- the one I was working on when he passed- to the man who I based our young larrikin Esegar off. I love you Grandad, may you rest in peace.
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	28. Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethna finally faces down the foes that plague her dreams and Ivar takes Ubbe's advice. But will they succeed? Will Ethna and Ivar be forced to admit to truths they'd rather keep hidden to mend their broken and strained relationship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, talk of death, blood, death, depression, murder, ghosts, sexual references, childbirth, dying in childbirth.

 

* * *

 “You’re only prolonging the inevitable, this will come to pass, but if you do this now, your friends don't die trying to protect you, you save everyone,” She said and stroked Ethna’s face with a gesture of mock comfort.

“No, you are lying I wouldn't take my own life, ever, that is the ultimate sin, the sin with no chance of repentance, I wouldn’t damn myself like that,” Ethna shrugged off the woman.

 “You can save everybody right here, right now, all you got to do is keep walking, the ice will take care of the rest.”  The ice around her flashed with colours as familiar faces reflected on its surface. Blue; Esegar’s eyes staring, body sinking and arms reaching. Green; Ruth being flung into the leaf litter, blood seeping from the hole in her chest. Yellow; Maeve’s sweat glinting in the candlelight. Orange; her brother's lying dead on a bloody field as the sunset. Red; Fabian’s head held aloft while his body lay discarded. Ethna whimpered as the images swirled around her mind. “They all die because of you,” The Woman whispered. “But you can cut your losses and join those you have lost.”

“Ethna!” A chorus of voices echoed. She lifted her head and looked to the other shore of the lake through heavy eyelids. A small crowd beckoned to her. She squinted and gasped when she recognised them.

Fennore waved at her with a rare warm smile, “I'm proud of you, you've done so well!” Ethna felt tears prick her eyes at her mentor’s words. Fennore was proud of her? That was the highest compliment she had ever received, “Come, let's finish your training! I still had much to show you before I left you, didn't I?”

“Oh, Ethy my brave lass come! Meet your sisters and brother, we can be together,” her father called out. He stood tall and strong, without a cane, not hunched over, carrying a young dark-haired girl around Connor’s age on his shoulders. Beside him, a young man and woman also baring a family resemblance waved at her. Her mind came to the sad conclusion that these were the ones mother lost, the ones that drove her to that still, unresponsive and depressed state. As if summoned by thought her mother came up behind Cuirtin and lovingly hooked her arm around his and smiled at him. “Nothing will separate us again, nothing,” her father promised.

“Ethy, my darling, oh look how tall you are now, come here, let me get a good look at you,” her mother pleaded.

“Máthair,” Ethna sobbed and took a step forward.

“Hello, Luv!” Another welcome voice sang out. She beamed when her eyes landed on Ardney’s warm smile. “Come meet my little man,” she nodded her head to the bundle in her arms, “His name is Seumas, like his father's, you want a hold?” Ethna nodded and her feet moved on their own accord.

There was a creak and groan. She halted and looked down at the ice below her feet and hesitated. None of this was real. She took a step back and the ice whined.

“Ethy?” Her father questioned, “What are you doing? We are right here.”

This was a trick. The Woman, she was behind everything, she was trying to kill her, but why?

“Ethna, don’t be a fool, you’ve run your race on earth, come, rest,” Fennore implored.  Ethna looked longing at each of their faces and settled on her mother’s. Her mind flashed back to the night four years ago. The night of screaming, blood, sweat, tears, life, and death.

* * *

 She remembered holding her mother’s hand as her breath grew laboured. She remembered crying as her mother told her to lean closer. Most of all, she remembered the last words her mother spoke.

“Ethy, in your life, try… to...understand,” She had whispered.

“Understand what máthair?” She sobbed and clasped her mother's hand desperately.

“Everything… Everyone…” She gasped weakly, “Nothing is ever… simple…” She whispered and tried to smile before slumping back into the bed.

* * *

 She had done a poor job of understanding the mess she was in. She had been tossed about as if she were Fion, Peigi’s ragdoll. She had naively and meekly let her own mind be commandeered by a stranger. She let herself get so emotional she no longer thought straight. Looking back at the ones who stood on the shore she knew each and every one of them would be ashamed if she gave up now.

“You aren’t real, this is my mind, you’re abominations, leave!” She commanded.

“No!” She heard The Woman screech as the small crowd was engulfed by fog.

 She turned to face The Woman and stared her down. Understand. She had to understand why this woman was doing this, she needed to think about what she had told her.  She had sons. She was doing this for her son, the one Ethna had ‘bewitched’. They were obviously people she knew because she said they would bury her and, one son in particular, had the chance to kill her but didn't.  

She felt so very stupid. If the answer were a serpent it would have bitten her; The Woman was Ivar’s mother. The one Ruth had said was a seeress.  Ivar had the chance to kill her many times but never did, because he was ‘enchanted’ by her, but what did that mean? She never used any magic...she never did anything… she gasped and remembered the exchange between her future self and Ivar in the vision of the storm.

“He loves me?” She questioned out loud. Things began to make sense; why he took her in the first place, his incessant touching, his possessiveness, the way he would listen to her when she talked, the way he would find excuses for them to spend time together, the way he never actually hurt her anymore, the way he desperately wanted her to give in to him, the way he held himself back, it was because he loved her? It was earthshaking for her. It wasn't a love like she had been taught to recognise. It wasn't kind, patient and gentle, no, but then again who had taught Ivar how to love? Most probably, no one. She felt a twinge of sorrow for him. How unfortunate that the first time Ivar fell in love it was with someone who didn't return his feelings and never would.

 “He loves me.” Ethna repeated with certainty, “And you don't want him to,” she concluded, “What are you so afraid I'll do?”

“You'll give him children, make him soft and complacent, you will cap his potential…”

“Well you can't believe everything you hear, let me tell you, you won't be getting any grandchildren through me...” Ethna began.

“Quite right,” She agreed. Ethna felt the ice tremble under her feet. “I’ll make sure of it.” She smiled as the ice gave way.

* * *

 She couldn't move her body; the shock wouldn't allow her to. Searing hot pain flooded through her body as the water engulfed her. Her mind screamed continuous nonsense, but one thought was louder than the rest; get out of the water. She clawed toward the surface sluggishly, the cold weighing down her movements. Think. She panicked as her palms pushed and hammered against the ice. Just calm down and think. This was not how she imagined dying; drowning and freezing in her own mind. She halted at that thought.

This was her mind. Hers. She could control it, if she could make the imitations of her loved ones disappear, she could make anything disappear. She pictured the strange village and shut her eyes and willed herself there.

Funnily enough, she felt solid ground at her back and the cold seep from her bones.

“Huh.” She exhaled dumbly with relief.

“No!” The Woman cursed. Ethna got up and dusted herself off and faced her.

“Leave me, you're not welcome anymore,” she dictated. The Woman scoffed.

“Very clever,” she snarled, “Good effort but you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

The houses around her suddenly burst into flame and began to collapse. Ethna yelped and coughed but thought hard as the smoke around her transformed into storm clouds that darkened the sky. She smirked as rain bucketed down, quenching the flames.  Ethna knew this would go on forever if she didn’t find a way to banish Ivar’s mother from her mind. What did Ruth say her mother did? What had she done that Ethna hadn't?

 _“...she stood fast and she commanded them to stop and identify themselves, after she knew their names they obeyed her…”_ Her name! Ethna had never commanded The Woman by name. She didn’t even know her name.

“What is your name? I demand you tell me!” Ethna yelled above the rain.

“You think I don’t know what you're doing?” She laughed and raised her hands and the banks of the Suir broke and swept her up. It seemed she was going to have to try and guess her name as Ivar never told her and she had never asked. If only she could ask him now, she thought as she coughed and sputtered in the raging white-water.  Perhaps she could, the sudden thought occurred to her. A large log tumbled towards her and she ducked under the water to escape it as she pictured herself outside the Ragnarson’s hunting cabin. 

She sighed in relief as she leant against a fence post. Trying to break through to Ivar was worth a shot, anything was. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes and hoped he was near enough to her body to hear her.

“Ivar? Can you hear me? Are you there?” She reached out. She tried again this time in Norse, “ _Ivar, can you hear me?”_ She tried to push between the barrier of sleep, she almost felt the fur of her bed underneath her, she felt just a tickle of warmth from the home’s fireplace. “ _Ivar can…”_

 _“I’m here, I’m here, I’m right here!”_ He sputtered quickly. She thanked the Lord. She had never been so relieved to hear his voice. “ _What’s happening? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”_ He blabbered. She had never heard Ivar like this. Was he drunk? His voice sounded shaky, like Eoin’s when he had too much of Fingal’s brew. A body collided with hers and The Woman sent them both tumbling to the ground.

 _“Ivar what your mother's name?”_ she asked holding the woman’s shoulders trying to push her back off her. Turns out Ethna could touch her. She strained to keep her focus on their connection, but she believed Ivar said something stupid like ‘what?’.

 _“Ivar please, important,”_ She struggled

 _“Why?”_ She heard him ask. She cursed and then choked as The Woman screamed and wrapped her hands around her throat.

“You will never be fit for my son!” She ragged. Ethna immediately refocused her effort on keeping pressure off her throat grappling at The Woman’s hands. There was no way she would be strong enough to strangle her, but who knew how long it would take for her to simply think of something else to kill her. Ethna couldn't change anything around her it would take too much concentration she would risk losing the connection with Ivar.

So, she opted to hoarsely screech at him instead, _“Ivar answer the_ damn _question you_ gobshite _I'm dying_ dammit!”

 _“Aslaug. Her name was Aslaug!”_ He supplied quickly.

“Aslaug,” Ethna gasped out and The Woman froze. “Aslaug, you will leave me, and you will never bother me again.”

“No, I wo-” She stammered with rage as she unwilling unhanded her.

“Aslaug, you are no longer welcome here,” Ethna stated firmly and rose to her feet.

“You will ruin everything, it would be better for you to die-”

“LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK!”  Ethna screamed.  Aslaug snorted and then smiled insincerely, Ethna was beginning to see where Ivar got it from.

“I am impressed, I admit my defeat, but, you will need my help one day. You will call on me, and you will regret not... opting out,” Aslaug warned.

“Well, that day isn’t today, “Ethna snarled. Aslaug chuckled cynically.

“By fire or by ice Ethna, I know which one I would have chosen,” she forewarned before fading from existence.

* * *

 Ethna wanted to feel relieved she was gone but all she felt was the awful ache of dread in her stomach.  It seemed Aslaug knew exactly how to sow doubt in a person by getting under their skin.

“Don’t worry about her,” a voice sounded from behind her. Ethna deflated and turned to face her new foe.

“No God please, not another one, I can’t take anymore,” she broke down in front of the blonde man.

“Oh, no, sorry, look it’s okay,” he held his hands up in mock surrender and chuckled, “My name is Sigurd, and I just wanted to give you a message,” he explained. Was this the Sigurd Ubbe mentioned? She scrutinized his face, she could kind of see some resemblance, he had the Ragnarson-blue-eyes, but one of his pupils was marred. To her, it almost looked like a serpent. Warily, she approached him, he could still have more sinister agendas.

“What message?”

“The future isn’t set in stone,” he began and looked at her with a kind of sadness she couldn’t quite place. “What my mother has told you and what you have seen can change, you can shape your fate, fate doesn’t have to shape you.”

“But I don’t understand most of what I see, how can I change a future that I only have vague details about?” She asked.

“You don’t, start with what you know,” he suggested and leant back against the wall of the cabin. “Your brother's will die in battle against… well, most probably Northmen in the Great Heathen Army, led by Ivar. Ruth dies protecting you, the queen, married to a cripple who brings “misery” to Eire which to me sounds like... well Ivar. And Esegar dies on a voyage which you specifically tell Ivar not to go on. To me, the answer to changing all those fates is simple...” Sigurd paused, Ethna tilted her head and listened intently. “Kill him.” Sigurd shrugged.

Ethna burst out laughing. “What? Are you insane? Why on God’s Earth would I do that!”

“You’re already going to kill Gylfi, the Northman who has murdered your friend, what makes Ivar any different? He’s hurt you, slane your people, and he’ll only cause you and the ones around you more suffering and pain? If you killed him now, it’d change everything you’ve seen in the future,” Sigurd suggested.

 Ethna shook her head, “Ivar is the only person that is protecting me, his reputation is my safety. If I kill him, I become nothing short of meat. Also, if I failed and he found I was plotting against him, I would be… God knows what, Ivar can be very creative with his cruelty,” she rebutted.

“But you wouldn’t fail, you're clever. You could easily get rid of Ivar and you know you could. I've seen your darkest thoughts in the middle of the night; poison, pillow, oh and the one where you snapped the axle of the chariot, genius, so incredibly easy.  And you know he told you that Ubbe would take care of you. Why wouldn't you do it? What is stopping you?”  Ethna swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was possible. She had the means and the time, and one hell of a motive. She really could kill Ivar if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to, not anymore. Those thoughts came to her months ago when she was full of grief, fear and rage. She hadn’t noticed until now, but those thoughts hardly crossed her mind now. Grief for her family had been replaced with feelings of longing and nostalgia and had been surpassed by her grief for Ardney. Fear had been replaced with a boldness to stand firm. Yes, she was still frightened, but now she felt that Ivar respected her boundaries if she stood firm. Her rage though, had not completely disappeared, it merely had a new target.

The truth was she didn't want to kill Ivar for a while now and she had been coming up with excuses why; Ivar was protecting her, she was afraid of him, she was incapable of murder, she cared about avenging others more than herself… but she knew the real reason and she never was brave enough to admit it to herself until now.

“He is my friend,” she murmured. Sigurd had an expression of pure shock and confusion at her revelation. “He is my friend,” Ethna restated more firmly, “It doesn't make any sense, it’s strange and it’s a very unstable relationship, but that is what we have become. Yes, he makes mistakes that hurt me, but I can see he regrets them. And no, I am not entirely sure why I forgive him. Maybe it is because I believe that he will become better himself if I give him a chance.  Maybe I hope that he will one day have enough compassion to free me. Maybe I believe that I can change fate by being there to guide him. Or, maybe I just like his sense of humour and being able to talk to someone on an intellectual level without being accused of witchcraft. Either all, Ivar is my friend. I believe that is what he is to me, and that is what I want to be to him; a friend.”

“What?” Sigurd said in utter bewilderment. “You’re just as crazy as he is! Just kill him! See how he has poisoned your mind.”  With that one sentence, Ethna finally understood the purpose of Sigurd’s visit. He was here to tempt her and to gain his revenge, his unfinished business. She studied him and, through quick flashes, saw what kind of brother he had been and immediately, she knew the nature of his death. She cocked her head to the side and chuckled.

“Crazy? Maybe, I do see things in my head after all, but there is only one person here whose mind is poisoned and that is yours Sigurd,” Ethna told him, “I have never seen anyone whose mind has been so poisoned by hate.” Sigurd swallowed and backed up against the cabin wall as she paced towards him. “Poor Sigurd, you wanted love and attention that your mother only gave to Ivar, believe me, I know what that feels like, but let me tell you the solution is never to push others down to pull yourself up. That may work for some time, but one day you find someone who won’t be pushed anymore, and it is you who will find yourself in the dirt… face down…” she stepped up to him, “... with an axe in your chest…” she poked his chest emphasizing her point. “Oh, I see the life and future you could’ve had if you had just let it go; you’d be a king, you’d have a wife who was a princess, I see a family and a long life. But no, you chose to be bitter and let hate shrivel your beautiful heart… such a waste,” she sighed sadly. “Leave me be Sigurd, you won’t get your revenge through me.”

“You’ll regret this,” Sigurd spat.

“Then that is my choice to regret,” she stated.

* * *

 She heaved heavy breaths as her eyes fluttered open. The world around her was fuzzy and she felt so unbelievably exhausted, but she could sense the sudden warmth of arms around her and hear the muffled sound of a voice through the ringing in her ears. She was awake. She was awake, and Ivar was there, holding her in his arms.

* * *

 “Are you okay?” Was the first thing to tumble out of his mouth when she awoke in the early hours of the morning. She groaned and squinted, trying to sit up. He unclasped his arms from around her waist and moved to pull her against his chest, but she protested and tried to push him away, grumbling, but her words were slurred and laboured. “Let me help you,” he tried with frustration. She had managed to sit up by now and struggled against him. “It’s okay Ethna, you’re safe, it’s okay,” he explained.

“Mooooove,” she groaned. He furrowed his brow. She took advantage of his confusion and sluggishly flung her body across his lap and hung her head over the side of the bed and emptied her stomach contents. He stared at her for a second before he swept up her loose hair and held it out of the way as she continued to retch and cough.  When she finished she curled into herself and let out a pitiful moan, “I sorry, I will clean, sorry,” she murmured and made a move to try to get up.

“Someone else can do that, it's fine,” he assured her and tried to pull her back into bed. “How do you feel?”

“Like I have been hitted with molberg,” she groaned.

He furrowed his brow, “What's a molberg?” He laughed. She stared at him as if he had two heads.

“You tell me that Thor use, Molberg, the hammer,” she explained.

He let out an amused snort. It was obvious that she was too tired to think straight, “I think you mean Mjolnir and I also think you need to rest.”

“I just sleep for very long, I no need more,” she grumbled groggily.

“Yes, you do, it wasn’t proper rest, sleep,” He grunted with frustration and wrestled her back under the covers.    

“I have chores, Esegar…” She insisted weakly. He sighed and let out an exasperated chuckle. She was so stupidly noble, yet, he couldn’t help but admire her.

“Don’t worry, I have given you the day off, and your friend Ruth has informed me the boy is fine, rest.” He assured her.

“But-”

 He cut off her protest, “I am ordering you to stay in this bed.”

She rolled her eyes and dramatically flopped back into bed. “Fine,” she grumbled.

There was a pregnant pause before she suddenly sprung up and stared at him with something akin to horror and exclaimed, “You sleep with me?!”

“Uh…” He began rather ungracefully, “Yes, but I was just making sure you didn't hurt yourself, you were thrashing and… this isn’t me trying to do… I wouldn’t…” He was unable to string a sentence together.  

Just leave, he told himself as he slipped out from under the covers. He moved to the edge of the bed and got ready to leave before he felt an imaginary string tug at his chest. He sat on the edge of the bed and winced as he opened his mouth, “What I did to you, with the bath, I didn’t think it would terrify you that much, but when you made it clear that you were, I just ignored you. Ethna, I only thought about myself, I didn't think about you and I know I scared you and I broke our promise, I screwed everything umhp-” His words were muffled by Ethna’s hand as she sat up and pressed it against his mouth. His face furrowed in confusion then morphed into an angry snarl. How dare she? He was trying to apologise.

She let out a tired giggle at his sour expression and removed her palm, “You say better first time.”  

He quirked a brow in surprise. Had she heard him that night? “You heard that?”

“Yes, I heard, Ivar, I tell you something,” she said and placed a hand on his shoulder briefly before folding her hands in her lap and looking down. “My mother say to me and my brothers ‘sorry’ means it won't happen again.” She looked back at him with her face, a painting of seriousness, “You remember that, I forgive.”

 He swallowed, “I am sorry Ethna,” he admitted with the most sincerity he had ever used in his life. “Not just for that night, but everything, the way I treated you, the way I hurt you. I can’t take you back to Eire now, and I know you will never be able to go back to Leamh... I’ve ruined your life.” He sneered at himself bitterly, “I have caused you nothing but misery and somehow convinced myself that I could make you happy,” he seethed and shook his head. “I realise that this…” He gestured between them, “... Isn't going to happen, I’ve known that from the start, but I still held onto the hope that it could.”  Ivar shook his head, “All I can do to make it up to you is promise that I will treat you well,” he hung his head, that was pathetic, his mind mocked him. This was so painful. He hated being wrong but admitting it was far worse, especially knowing that she would never forgive him. He steeled himself for the most far-fetched thing he would propose to her.

 “Ethna, despite this…” He swallowed and prepared to lie for the first time this morning, “I hope we can become friends,” he finished.

“Ivar,” Ethna intently gazed at him, “We are friends.”  He was taken back in shock. She half smiled at him. Did she not understand what he just said? “Ivar and Ethna, stuck together, _Gall agus Ghaeil_ , unhappy we be if we are not friends, sad to use time to hate, but...” She started and moved to lay back down, “I still have anger and you very bad at frien...umm…frie... friend-ing,” she explained and settled into the furs.

“It’s called friendship,” he chuckled, “Not friend-ing.” She wasn’t wrong though, he was a terrible friend, especially considering the fact that he dreamt of them being rather ‘friendly’ last night while she laid next to him. That is stage two, focus on stage one right now he told himself and shook the thought from his head.

 “You’re right Ethna,” he slid down off the bed, carefully avoiding the puddle of vomit. “I’ll find someone to clean this up, you rest now. I’ll be out today, I have business to attend to, but if you do wake up and feel bored, you can pack yourself, Hvitserk and I one day’s provisions, we are going on a trip tomorrow afternoon.”

Ethna nodded, rolled over and nestled into the pillow, “Okay, good night...no, good day, sorry, I confused.”

“Good night, Ethna,” he humoured her and crawled out the door into the living area with a smirk plastered on his face as a wonderful idea crossed his mind. “Margrethe!” He called out across the house, “I have a job for you!”

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gall agus Ghaeil : Foreigner (viking) and gael
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	29. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a spy in their midst and Yule mere days away, Ivar and Hvitserk try to find who they can trust as they journey to meet with Olaf and Ausile. Ethna's new found loyalties are tested as the Queen's suspicious of Ivar's plans grows. However, Lagertha is not the only one suspicious of the Gael. Runi and Helfrim know that the thralls Ruth, Seumas and Ethna are up to something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, talk of death, violence, talk of murder, sexual references

* * *

“Ethna?” Ruth questioned, dropping the threads of tapestry in her hands and rushing over to her tall friend. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean…” Ruth wrapped her arms around her and buried her face in Ethna’s shoulder.

“It is not your fault,” Ethna reassured her and returned the embrace, “It worked, I no see the woman anymore.”

“Who was it?” Ruth stepped back and looked her up and down inspecting her, looking for any evidence she had come to harm.

“Aslaug, Ivar’s mother,” Ethna said and turned round to look at the faces arriving back under the moon’s glow from a hard day’s work. Ruth pursed her lips at the revelation, no wonder she had been under for a day and night, Aslaug’s power was well renowned, even in her old master’s home in Denmark. “How is Esegar?” Ethna asked finally, breaking her out of memories she'd rather forget.

“Come see,” Ruth beckoned her to a corner of the house near the tub. Esegar lay on his stomach with his swadded back exposed to the cold air. He was in a trance of alcohol-induced numbness.

“Hey,” Ethna greeted and sat down next to him, **“How are you feeling brave warrior?”**

 **“Ethna, you’re here, good, good, ”** he slurred, **“I feel… not that great.”**

She half smiled and ruffled his hair, **“I can imagine, but I am here now and I am going to give you something for the pain that will not make you feel like a… uh…”**

 **“An alcohol-soaked rag...like Seumas,”** he offered. Ruth didn’t understand the whole conversation but just heard Seumas’ name she could guess at what had been said and she held back a laugh.

 **“Something like that,”** Ethna chuckled.  Ruth watched as Ethna pulled out her pestle and mortar from her bag and began grinding together certain herbs, adding powders, water and what looked like some kind of ale, all the while muttering to herself in her own language.

“I am going away, another trip, I make this, you put on wound and cover with bandage each day, clean bandage,” She instructed. Ruth paid the utmost attention as Ethna continued. “I also make a… uhh forget what called, drink with water? Small amount, numb pain, but do not let him get it himself, bad if too much,” she explained seriously and took out a small skin flask and demonstrated the right amount to add to Esegar’s cup.

 **“Drink up, I want to see you at training soon. Seumas is too tough a sparring partner,”** she encouraged the boy and got up. She cocked her head and gestured for Ruth to follow her.  “We must find Seumas, I will be back at Yule but we must talk about plan. There things that must get done before I come back, ” Ethna whispered. Ruth nodded spotting the blonde man trudging through the door.

“Let’s go,” Ruth took her arm and led her towards the door, and tapped the man on the shoulder on her way out, “You too, sorry sack.”

“Oi!” Seumas protested before following suit.

* * *

 

They sat huddled around the crude cross that marked his dear Ardney’s grave. No one would bother them here, no one would bother her here. Ardney had always said it was important for her body to lay undisturbed, she rambled on about some second coming of Christ and resurrection, he didn’t really know, but he made sure she would be left alone. The Northmen believed a troll lived here, which was rubbish, he thought to himself. He knew very well where monsters lived, and they did not live in the woods; they lived in homes, by fires, surrounded by family and spoils of war.

“So, we’re doin’ it on the night of the log burnin?” He asked finally.

“Yes,” Ethna nodded. “Plan has five parts,” Ethna counted off. “Well, six, but one already done,” she smiled. “Part One, make people so drunk, they no even see straight,” she announced.

“Okay, how do we do that?” Ruth asked. Ethna smirked and pulled out her book and showed them a page in the lamplight.

“I need the mushroom you tell not to pick,” she told Ruth, “Tomorrow, I need you to get enough to fit in two bowl and need them...no wet, sun dry? Understand? I do rest.”

“Will do,” Ruth nodded.

“Part two,” Ethna pointed at Seumas, “You go to clearing, ready make it.”

“Is that it?” Seumas whined.

“You job important, you find weapon and rope. Hide it there,” Ethna explained. “Part three and four… I don’t really know, I need help,” she admitted. “But part five is easy, Seumas kill Gylfi and then done.”

“I was thinking about that,” Ruth began and stopped and shook her head, “It’s nothing...”

“What’s on ye mind lass?” Seumas asked.

“When we kill him, there’ll be blood and we only have one set of clothes, won’t the blood will give us away?” She questioned.

“Good point,” Seumas nodded thoughtfully. Ethna nodded as well, indicating that she hadn’t thought of that.

“Sackcloth, over clothes?” Ethna proposed.

“Or we could do it naked,” Seumas suggested. Ethna stared at him in horror.

“We could,” Ruth shrugged, “But it will be freezing.”

“Aye, that’s true, I’d rather not freeze me cock off just to murder the bastard,” Seumas nodded, “Sackcloth sounds grand,” He agreed and Ethna sighed in relief.

“What’s part three and four?” Ruth inquired.

“Part three: Ivar, he can’t notice me gone,” she sighed, “Part four; make Gylfi go to clearing.”

“Leave part four to me,” Ruth gritted. Seumas’ heart clenched, he knew what she was going to do and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Ruth, lass, don’t sell yer’self like that, we’ll find another way,” he began, but Ruth shook her head.

“Sacrifices must be made for Ardney’s sake, I have nothin’ more to lose anyway… if I play my cards right I may not even have to get too physical.”

“That’s absolute horse shite! Ruth yer worth more than that,” Seumas protested.

“Ruth...” Ethna pleaded.

“It’s my choice, part four is sorted now let’s move on to part three,” Ruth stated firmly. Seumas sat silent and grim for a while but eventually, he spoke his idea out loud.

“That cow faced skag Helfrim, she’ll be our distraction,” he proposed. Ethna looked at him with as if he’d lost his mind. “Oh come on now wee shite, can ye nay see she’s infatuated with the bastard?” Ethna had a dumb look of surprise on her face as she let out an ‘oh’ of realisation.

“But he… have no eyes for her,” She mumbled.

“Well is there a potion in ye book that can fix that?” He questioned. Ethna’s face grew stern and solemn as she bit her lip.

“Not exactly, but I know what I must do now,” she said in what to him seemed like a mournful tone, “I will do part three,” she resolved hesitantly, “That’s every part.”

Seumas nodded and clapped the two women on the shoulders, “Come this time next week, We've had our vengeance.”

* * *

 

Runi kept her eyes focused on the entrance of the Slave House. She grinned when she saw the trio she was looking for return from wherever they had gone to conspire. She listened in intently as Ethna exchanged farewells, “I will see you when I get back, then I talk.” Runi’s blood boiled. She was smart, disrupting the trail, informing Lagertha through others than herself. What enraged Runi the most was the fact that Ivar was so blind and he trusted her. That bitch had probably faked that illness just to hear their plans while she was ‘sleeping’. He deserved better, he deserves someone who was loyal to him, he deserved Helfrim. She clenched her fist and stalked towards the hall; Helfrim had to know her suspicions were right.

* * *

 

After training with Seumas in the morning and preparing breakfast, Ethna now sat at the table with the brothers and Margrethe. Having worked up an appetite from the ‘ordeal’ she devoured her bread and leftovers like a pack animal while Ubbe tried to make small talk.

“It's good to see you well Ethna,” Ubbe commented.

Ethna nodded, “It is good to be well.”

“Well it's good that you're well, you have a lot of chores to catch up on. The thick of winter is coming and our coats need mending, also you need to pickle and store more food...” Margethe rattled off.

“What is pickle?” Ethna asked.

“It's where you store food in a jar with vinegar, salt and water, so it lasts,” Hvitserk explained, “It also makes most things taste better in my opinion.”

She tilted her head in thought, “Do you have no food in winter? You no fish?” Ethna asked as she finished her breakfast and pushed the plate aside.

“No, food is scarce and the water freezes over in a lot of places, but you don't have to worry about it, because Margrethe is going to handle it before we get back,” Ivar explained then turned to Margrethe with a fake smile, “Isn’t that right?”

“Wh-back? Where are you going?” Margrethe stammered.

Hvitserk smiled and opened his mouth, “Ivar, Ethna and I are taking a trip to Fl-”

“-Pay our respects to a friend of ours from England's family, he died of his wounds not that long ago,” Ivar finished for him.

“Why didn't you tell me you were going Hvitty?” Margrethe asked with distress.

“It was a recent development,” he explained apologetically.

“Do not worry Margrethe, if you give coats to me I will fix on journey, done before back, will that be help to you?” She offered, feeling slightly guilty for having her clean up the mess she made on Ivar’s floor yesterday.

“Yes that would be helpful, thank you for doing your job,” Margrethe bit snarkily. Ubbe tensed and gave her a pleading look while Ivar narrowed his eyes.

“You are welcome,” Ethna chirped, not understanding the hostility of the comment.

“Will you be back for the lighting of the log?” Ubbe asked, ironing out the tension.

Ivar chuckled darkly, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“That is good,” Ubbe nodded, “It will be Ethna’s first festival here, I am sure the two of you will enj-”

“The queen wants to speak with the slave!” Astrid announced as she barged through the front door with two shieldmaidens in tow.

“Good morning Astrid, to what do we owe the displeasure of your company,” Ubbe greeted with a curt smile.

“I already told you,” she said and marching over to the table and grabbing Ethna's arm and roughly pulled her to stand.

Ethna pulled back in confusion, “What have I done?” She began to panic. Had the queen discovered her murderous plot? Did someone hear her and her friend's scheming last night?   She tugged back,“I done nothing wrong!” And it was true. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet.

“You can’t do this!” Ivar snarled and grabbed hold of her other arm. The two began a tug of war match with Ethna’s arms, Ivar of course, was winning. Or he was until the other two shieldmaidens stepped in and held him off.  “Let her go!” He demanded.

“What does Lagertha want with her?” Ubbe interrogated them and stood between them and the door.

“Do not worry we just want to chat, we will return her,” Astrid smirked then added, “In one piece.” It was then that Ethna understood what was happening, she was not being brought in because of her own personal plot, no, it was because the queen believed her to be privy of Ivar’s plans. She glanced over her shoulder and looked eyes with Ivar as Astrid led her closer to the door.

“I will be okay,” she tried to assure him. “ **I will not tell them anything** ,” she added in Saxon and nodded. Ivar tensed his jaw and hung his head.

“What does that mean?” Astrid glared at Ubbe, silently demanding that he move.

“It means do not worry,” Ubbe said and stepped out the way but grabbed Astrid's shoulder. “If you or your queen so much as harm a hair on her head, there will be no place safe from his wrath and my scorn,” he whispered threateningly then patted her shoulder and chuckled.

* * *

 

Ethna glanced around the grand hall and admired the furs and banners that decorated it. It felt cosy, yet by knowing that the person who lived here currently was an enemy, it somehow made her feel like an imposter.

“This way,” Astrid tugged her further into the hall and behind a divider. Ethna entered and saw Queen Lagertha sitting at a long table with another blonde woman she didn’t recognize and Helfrim standing by the door on guard. Astrid let go of her arm and sat the queen’s side.

“Ah, hello Esja, come sit, join us for breakfast, you must be hungry,” She smiled warmly. Ethna forced a smile of her own as her heart beat fast within her rib cage. She knew what this was. Despite the friendly appearance, this was an interrogation.

Breathe, she told herself. Think, keep your head, understand what is going on, all of it. She let out a short breath and got to work.

The offer of breakfast was an action Fabian had taught her well; she was buttering her up. She knew by accepting the invitation she would inadvertently be obliged to share something in return. Wait. She backtracked through queen’s words and realised that this front was based on numerous inaccurate assumptions. Lagertha knew nothing about her except that she was Ivar’s slave. Lagertha didn't even remember her name correctly and assumed that she hadn’t had breakfast yet, which implied that she assumed Ivar mistreated her. Well, you know what they say about assuming, she smiled to herself and cautiously sat down.

“Thank you, you are... kind,” Ethna stammered her words, making the decision that it would be best to conform to Lagertha’s preconceptions.  A plate was placed in front of her by one of her friends from the slave house, Luta. “ **Thank you Luta** ,” she commented.

“ **What’ve you gotten yourself into now**?” The young woman shook her head and muttered before retreating out of the room.

“Do you know her?” Lagertha asked; an act of false empathy.

“Yes, we friends,” she nodded and eyed the meal in front of her, then Lagertha silently asking permission to eat.  

“Eat, please,” the queen nodded and the whole table began to tuck into their meal. While their heads were down, she peered across the room at Helfrim who was staring at her with contempt. Ethna smirked knowingly at her, then turned to Lagertha.

“My queen… may I ask, why I here?” She moved the exchange along in broken Norse. The sooner this was over the better.

“I won’t lie to you Esja...”

“Your Highness, her name is Ethna,” Helfrim corrected politely from her place at the door.

“Effna, forgive me, that is a lovely name,” she flattered, “I won’t lie to you Effna, I need your help and that will possibly put you in danger.” Ethna furrowed her brow, what kind of person is honest when trying to get what they want? Either Lagertha was an extremely good manipulator or she was actually somewhat genuine in her kind actions.

“Effna I believe that your master is planning to overthrow me, I have a good source who has been able to give some information, but it is not good enough,” Lagertha explained. So there was a spy? Ethna noted that piece of information and tucked into her second breakfast of the day, pretending to look hungry.

“We know that if you tell us anything Ivar will know it was you and he could hurt you,” the other blonde woman spoke inspecting her with her big brown eyes. “But once the war starts, we’ll protect you, you can stay with me, my son Guthrum and I will keep you safe,” she offered. Good offer, Ethna observed, but how desperate were they for this information? She wondered.

“I...will not be safe, if he want hurt me, he will hurt me, he will hurt me when I go home today, even if I say nothing,” she said shakily.

“I know, there is nothing I can do about that and I am sorry, I myself have been mistreated by a man. I know you’re scared, but you if agree to spy for me I may be able to thwart his plans,” She paused to take a sip of her drink before adding, “Then, Perhaps, with Ivar out of the way, I could negotiate your freedom?” She offered with a confident smile.

She swallowed. So that’s how desperate she was. If Lagertha had made this offer a few months ago she would have taken it without hesitation but now, she wasn’t so keen. It was true that she wanted her freedom, but she didn’t want it that way, she didn’t want Ivar or his brothers to die. So it was decided then, she was on Ivar's side and now it was time for some snooping of her own.

“If Ivar is threat to you, why you no kill him?” She asked.

“Unfortunately, the Sons of Ragnar are well-respected men, I can not take up arms against them without being provoked, I would not have the people’s support,” Lagertha sighed.

“If you free me, How will I live? I have no money, freeing me would mean I may starve…” She tested the extent of the queen’s generosity.

“Torvi thought about this,” She gestured to the blonde woman, finally naming her. “Her oldest son Guthrum, my foster grandchild, is willing to marry you, he’s a good young man, he thinks you to be quite beautiful and I can assure that he will look after you…” Ethna tuned out, horrified but still managing to maintain a placid expression. Offering a slave a respectable young man to marry?  A very generous offer by a queen desperate for information or, a win-win family favour and ulterior motive? It appeared that either way the queen and her court had thoroughly thought through this.

She glanced at Helfrim to see a single bead of sweat drip down her forehead. It seemed Helfrim was so sure of what Ethna would do. She looked to the three women at the end of the table and saw confidence in their eyes. One more question before I end this, Ethna thought.

“What you know about Ivar’s plans?” She asked sheepishly.

Astrid raised an eyebrow, “Why do you ask?”

“So I do not tell things you know,” she replied carefully.

“We believe Ivar plans to attack in winter, and that he has help coming from some army during yule, we also believe he has contacted King Harald,” Astrid answered. She nodded along, impressed by how little they actually knew.  She began to consider if she should deceive them and give Ivar a helping hand or leave them in the dark.

“If you help me Effna, you’ll finally help me establish myself as the rightful ruler of Kattegat,” Lagertha implored. With that sentence, Lagertha unknowingly washed away all the admiration and respect Ethna had developed for her in the past few moments by reminding her that she was the woman that murdered Ivar’s mother and usurped the throne. Deception it was.

“I no know a lot more than what you have told me...” Ethna began and she saw Helfrim visibly flinch and clench her fists. “I do not hear much, Ivar does not tell me and I sometimes no understand what said, but I have heard him talk to brother and… and…” Ethna paused longer as if struggling to bring herself to speak, but really she just liked watching Helfrim squirm. “... it is true Ivar plan to attack in winter, but now because you take me to talk, Ivar will change plans, he made plan for if King Harald’s harvest bad and no provisions…” She cast her line.

“So you know his back up plan?” Lagertha took the bait. She nodded.

“Now Ivar attack in spring, he and some of his men will sail… say that he go on raid… then come back at night attack from water with Harald, while men left behind come from inside,” she explained. Helfrim seemed to be in a state of complete shock, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

“How many men?”Astrid asked.

“I do not know,” she shook her head, “I am sorry I not much help.”

“On the contrary,” Lagertha stood up and paced across the room to her. Ethna stood up to meet her, “You have been very helpful, thank you so much, I know what you have risked here today and I am sorry that I can not stop the atrocities that that monster has done and will do to you, but I promise I will not forget this and you will be rewarded,” she sincerely thanked her and placed her hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. Ethna wished she hadn’t done that, because now, what was smugness only moments ago, was now guilt. She wished that this world was clear-cut, good versus evil, but unfortunately, it wasn’t.  

“I’ll see her home,” Helfrim offered, breaking the moment.

“Thank you Helfrim,” Lagertha nodded at her Shieldmaiden

“Thank you, my queen, for breakfast and... everything else,” Ethna smiled trying to really sell it,  “If I hear anything more I will tell you.”

“Take care of yourself, Effna,” the queen nodded and sat back at the table.

* * *

 

“Why did you do that?” Helfrim suddenly asked as they walked back to the Ragnarson’s house.

“Do what?” Ethna asked.

“When the queen offered you freedom and security… Why didn’t you take it? You hate me, you could have told her I was a spy and had me killed, you could’ve told the truth, got rid of Ivar and been free, Why did you lie?” Helfrim asked unable to make sense of it.

“Same reason you do anything Ivar asks and keep help him even though he no love you back,” Ethna began and Helfrim bristled. “Loyalty,” she answered. Also, I'm not petty like you, she bit back mentally.

“I don’t believe for one second that thralls such as you could ever be loyal to anyone other than themselves,” Helfrim spat.

“Is Runi not loyal to you?” Ethna asked rhetorically.

“She’s different, she is like my sister, I have known her since birth, besides, I know you’re up to something, Runi saw you and your pack sneak off to plot, she thought you were the spy,” She snarled. Ethna stopped in her tracks.

“I am not, I did not know there was spy till Lagertha said so,” Ethna defended.

Helfrim stood in her way and jabbed a finger at her chest, “Then where did you go off to then?Hmm?”

“We visit Ardney’s grave,” Ethna replied with the somewhat truth.

“Oh really?” Helfrim advanced closer and leered in her face, “Or are you all real close ‘buds’ huh?” She enthused with a shove and Ethna tried her best to keep the lid on her simmering rage. However, Helfrim wasn’t finished, “Maybe there’s not enough room in the slave house for the three of you to-”

“Shut up!” Ethna yelled and shoved Helfrim back. For a second, Helfrim stood there, dazed by Ethna’s audacity. Realising what she had done, Ethna took a step back, “I am sorr-” She was interrupted by the crack of Helfrim’s backhand across her face.

“You’re lucky you’re Ivar’s bitch, I would’ve killed you and not gave a damn about the consequences if you weren’t!”  Helfrim seethed and roughly dragged her to the Ragnarson’s front door.

Ethna clenched her jaw and glared at the shieldmaiden as she knocked on the front door.

“And you are lucky I need you alive,” she said darkly.

Helfrim turned her head to her with an anxious expression, “Sorry, what?” She laughed nervously.

“You heard me,” Ethna stared at her intensely.

Helfrim swallowed and took a step back, “Your threat is empty, thrall,” Helfrim spat, but it wasn't at all convincing.

“Is it ?” Ethna smiled darkly and the door was flung open

* * *

“What happened?” Ivar demanded, as soon as Hvitserk wrenched the door open and ushered them inside. It seemed they were the only two home, Margrethe and Ubbe must have been off running some errands.

“Lagertha offered me freedom if I tell her your plan,” Ethna answered honestly. Ivar hung his head and clenched his fists.  Hvitserk winced and sighed heavily.

“So when can I expect her shield maidens to come and torch this house with us inside it,” he snarled, “I’ll make certain you burn with us for your treachery!”

“You really think I betray you?” She asked him as hurt flooded her features. Ivar lifted his head and met her eyes. His face softened. “I told lie, She heard that you work with some king named Harald and you attack in winter after army arrive at yule, I told her that now you would change your plan because you believe that I have told it to her,” she reported.

“What did you tell her?” Ivar inquired, tilting his head.

“I told Lagertha you would do a ‘backup plan’, I said you would attack in spring, with Harald from the water and inside Kattegat,” she retold.

Ivar nodded then beckoned Ethna to come closer to where he was sitting. She quietly shuffled over to him and looked up at him. He examined her carefully. What was he looking for? She wondered.

“Is this true?” He turned to Helfrim.

“Yes, she was...very deceptive, my prince,” Helfrim confirmed, somewhat shakily. He smiled at her, then began to chuckle. She let out a strained laughed too, until she saw a frown cross his features. He reached up towards her face. At first, she flinched back, but she then steadied herself. She allowed him to take her face into his calloused hands. He tilted her cheek towards him and scowled.

“Who did this to you?” He asked cooly.

Ethna hesitated before murmuring: “Helfrim did.” She held back a smirk as she saw the woman flinch. Ivar’s eyes shot to the shieldmaiden and narrowed. “Because I asked her to,” she added at the last second.

Ivar swivelled back to her, “What?”

“Lagertha thinks you hurt me, I need look like hurt so she do not think I lie. I ask Helfrim to hit me, so you no have to, I will also bandage arm, make it look bad,” she finished crafting her lie and glanced at Helfrim, seeing her slightly paler than before.

“I see,” Ivar nodded turning to Helfrim. “Your thrall will deliver my plans to you in two days time. I think it's time you head back before someone misses you.” Helfrim simply nodded and turned to leave.

Ethna saw an opportunity and seized it, “Ivar, Helfrim has done much for you, she is in danger being a spy for you and is very loyal to you, I mean no offend to you for saying this, but...will you not thank her?” She whispered in his ear.  His face scrunched up in thought and he gave her an appraising glance and quirked a brow. ‘What are you up to?’ he asked without words.

“Helfrim,” he called before she got to the doorway.

The woman turned on her heel immediately, “Yes my prince?”

“Although I prefer you not to damage Ethna’s pretty face… you've served me faithfully. I’m grateful to have you by my side, soon we’ll have our revenge and when the Ragnarssons are restored as rightful rulers, I will see to it that you want for nothing,” he promised.

“Th-thank you my prince,” Helfrim bumbled. The look in her eyes of pure joy only served to confirm to Ethna that Seumas was indeed right; Helfrim was infatuated with Ivar. “... You needn't promise me a reward, avenging my brother and restoring the throne to its rightful ruler is its own reward. It’s a honour serving you Ivar,” she bowed her head and then left.

“Gods, she knows how to kiss arse, doesn't she?” Hvitserk rolled his eyes.

“She say her words with truth, she means them, I think she has eyes for you Ivar,” Ethna hinted. Hvitserk scoffed at first then frowned as he realized Ethna was right.

“Brother… she likes you,” Hvitserk grinned madly.

Ivar snorted, “We share a common enemy and she’s loyal to us Ragnarsons, we’re friends, allies, nothing more.”

“Ivar! She is practically stripping herself naked and screaming fuck me!” Hvitserk countered vulgarly.  His choice of words shocked Ivar to silence and tinged his face ever so slightly red at with the imagery. He turned away from them and quickly changed the topic.

“Ethna, is everything ready for us to leave?”

“All packed last night, only horses need to be made ready,” she reported.

He nodded,“Then have that arranged, I want to leave as soon as possible.”

* * *

“Why didn’t you choose to betray me Ethna?” Ivar finally let out the question that had been rattling around in his head since that morning. Ethna glanced up from the coat she was patching while she sat on the back of his chariot.

“I did not want you and brothers hurt just for my freedom, we are friends, all type of love has promise, by being your friend, I promised to be loyal to you, to help you...” she said then snorted, “ … as well, What Lagertha offered, it was not real freedom.”

“What do you mean?” Ivar asked, fixing his eyes on the road, hiding his delighted grin from her and Hvitserk’s view.

“She said she would kill you and I would be free… but I asked how I would live with no money or family, she told me Torvi’s son...um Guthman? No, Guthrum, wanted to marry me. I do not want that,” Ethna shuddered.

Ivar’s grin turned to a snarl, “What?!”

“Well, that’s a bit forward,” Hvitserk commented, deciding to barge in on the conversation

“Yes, to him I say: no thank you, please die,” she said causing Hvitserk to laugh. She joined in, laughing to herself, “He is not very brave if he no show his face and ask me himself, I do not even know the man-”  
“More like a Boy,” Ivar corrected, “He is a year younger than you and me, never seen battle, he is not a man yet,” he seethed. It seemed there were eyes that pined after her wherever she went.

“Ivar?” Ethna asked.

“Yes?” He turned around to her.

“Do you want to get married?” She asked.

He stiffened at first, but then smirked, “Sure, let’s do it, when would be a good time?”  Hvitserk laughed so hard he nearly fell off his horse. Ethna squinted in confusion at first, then her face went gaunt.

“Ah … no... um, I mean...to someone...later future…” She stammered.

“I know,” He chuckled, “To answer your question; yes, one day, I hope, I want to have many children,” he admitted, leaving off the ‘with you’ that he thought afterwards.

However impossible it seemed with his condition, he did want to have children to carry his legacy. He hadn’t really thought of marrying Ethna before. When he first met her, he just wanted to have his way with her. However, after his regretful attempt to do so, he realised he wanted more than that. And now, he was sure just how much more he wanted.

She was the woman he wanted to his. She was thoughtful, wise and strong, just the type of woman he wanted to be at his side and raise his children.

Why don’t you marry her? You could if you wanted, his mind whispered. Because she doesn’t love you back yet, his heart then countered. It was right, if he made her marry him she most likely wouldn’t be willing or happy about it.

His father had told him happiness was nothing. Ivar did not believe that anymore. It was true that happiness was not something to be sought after and hoarded, but it wasn’t nothing either. If his time with Ethna these past few months had taught him anything it was that happiness is only happiness when it is shared, if one person isn’t truly happy, then neither is the other.

“And you Hvitserk?” Ethna asked, “Do you want to marry someone?” She worded carefully this time.

“No, why would I confine myself to one woman like that?” He laughed.

“Because you don’t want of an army of bastard children knocking on your door demanding inheritance when you’re old and sickly?” Ivar jabbed, “Or worse, an army of angry women.”

“At least I’ll have children, Boneless,” Hvitserk chuckled. He may have meant it as a joke but it stung. Ivar clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the reigns.  

“Why do you call Ivar boneless? If anyone ‘boneless’ it you Hvitserk,” Ethna piped up suddenly, “... I do not know where else you put the lots of food you eat, other than your hollow legs.”

Ivar cackled and Hvitserk scowled looking taken aback.

“I don’t eat that much food,”  he defended.

“How would you know? You do not cook,” Ethna smiled sweetly then broke into her own little chortle and Ivar joined her.

“Well… you… oh, forget it, where here, let’s just get this over with,” Hvitserk grumbled.

“ **Seems you hit a nerve Ethna** ,” Ivar said to her in Saxon slyly.

“ **He has many, and I get on them all the time** ,” she laughed, “ **I know he does not like me**.”

“ **On the contrary, I think he does like you quite a lot but does not like that you do not like him back** ,” Ivar mused.

“Talk to me, not about me!” Hvitserk yelled back at them as dismounted his horse with a huff, then trudged towards Floki’s house.

“ **True, I do not think he likes to be ignored, much like someone else I know** ,” she giggled.

“Hey!” He protested half-heartedly.

“Sorry... My lord,” Ethna mocked. He halted Vaengi's reigns and the chariot came to a stop. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“As much as I enjoy our banter Ethna, once we go in there you cannot speak to me like that…”

“ **I know, that is why I got in while I could,”** she whispered. He shook his head and chuckled. Her face turned somewhat serious and he furrowed his brow.

“What are you thinking?”

“When we go in there, pretend I still do not know Norse very well, tell Hvitserk to pretend too,” she instructed.

“Why?” He inquired.

“I hear more when people do not think I am listening,” she admitted, passing his crutches up to him. He smiled wickedly at her, it was times like these where he wished he could just kiss her.

* * *

 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been reading over the story and noticing the first few chapters are particularly bad and I have been meaning to edit them for a while. I will be doing this slowly and eventually, as of now Chapters one and two have been edited. They aren’t that different, just a bit more detailed and revised. (including time tidy ups, language tidy ups and confirming that in this story Headmund is dead plus a few other small things) I also added a quote from the Prose Edda as the prologue because I thought it fitted nicely. 
> 
> Also if anyone wants to read the short story I wrote that inspired me to write The Saga of the Slave Queen, you can [click here](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/post/175359385628/the-doe-this-is-a-more-detailed-version-of-an) to read it now on Tumblr or wait a little while for me to post it here and add it to the series
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


	30. Yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yule is here and so is vengeance. Plans all come together and sacrifices must be made for the sake of honour. But how much is too much? Will all go according to plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slavery (duh), coarse language, torture, blood, violence, graphic murder, death, drug references, drink spiking, sex under the influence of drugs, dubcon, sexual references, sex scene

* * *

 

“I called a meeting because there is a spy in our midst,” Ivar announced to the room, “Lagertha knows something is going down, I bought some time by feeding her false information,” he subtly glanced at Ethna standing to the side of him.

“So what do we do?” Olaf asked.  Runi and Auisle tilted their heads in anticipation.

After much thought throughout the day Ivar had reached a decision; “We go ahead as planned, you’ll come with some of your men during the festivities and on the 12th day we will strike,” he stated confidently.

“But no doubt she will be wary of anyone who visits during the festival,” Runi put forward.

“We’ll have to be discrete,” Olaf stroked his beard in thought.

Auisle, scoffed, “What you ask is impossible, it would be easier to sneak a whale into the city in broad daylight!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ethna straighten up. He glanced at her briefly and she stared back. In an instant, he knew what she was thinking.

“Perhaps, it would be,” he put forward with a wicked grin. The room went silent and all heads turn towards him with quizzical expressions. Then Olaf broke out in boisterous laughter.

“That is brilliant!” He clapped his hands, “It’s so bold, it’s discrete!”

“I don’t understand, do you care to share with the rest of us?” Hvitserk asked annoyed and Auisle agreed.

“Olaf and Auisle, in order to not arouse too much suspicion, will arrive toward the end of yule with a few men, but not enough to appear threatening. You will craft a story to flatter her, say you are from the northern coast and you wish to present a humble offering for the Queen’s hospitality...” Ivar thought out loud, “This gift, a whale, will be hollowed out to conceal your best men, when night falls, they will emerge, and then together, with our troops we will take the throne,” Ivar finished. Hvitserk frowned, Runi turned her head and let her mouth hang open and Olaf grinned like a madman.

Auisle laughed hysterically, “Where are we going to get a whale this far into winter!”

“I have a friend from Vestford, Harald’s kingdom, he is wintering in Kattegat, he is a whaler,” Hvitserk put forward deciding to follow along with his brother’s crazy scheme, “He told me there is a type of whale that is still around this time of year, usually the winds aren’t favourable for whaling in winter, but with some compensation I am sure I could persuade him to join our cause,” he finished with a shrug.

“Forgive me, I am lost, What do I tell Helfrim?” Runi asked perplexed.

“Tell her that when we acquire a whale, Olaf and Auisle will appear in Kattegat, and that night we will take the throne, Helfrim will help me overthrow her, there will be no point in her staying at Lagertha’s side and endangering herself during the coup,” Ivar instructed.

“Well, I believe celebration is in order!” Olaf clapped his hands.

“Wait,” Auisle tilted his head, “There is quite a lot of risk in this mad plan of yours Boneless,” he began slyly, “I might need some incentive to go along with it…” Beside him, Olaf flinched, he shot a look of discomfort at Auisle.

This was to be expected, Auisle was sceptical. However, it still was a surprise he brought this up after they had finished planning.

“What do you want?” Ivar arched his brow.

“I want a night with your thrall,” Auisle asked boldly and pointed across the table to Ethna. Ethna lifted her head. Ivar clenched his jaw tightly and gripped the edge of the table fighting back his rage. Olaf and Hvitserk both tensed and stared back and forth between Ivar and Auisle.

Ivar knew what he had to do in order to gain the brothers' support. He knew what he had to do in order to keep up the facade that she meant nothing to him. He knew what he should do, he knew what the call of revenge demanded of him. Swallowing, he glanced at Ethna. She had taken a step closer to him so now her hip brushed his shoulder. She met his gaze and her face sagged. She knew too.

For the first time in a year, something finally didn’t seem worth it. He knew his honour called for him to avenge his mother at any cost, but this, he decided, was a price he was not willing to pay. He exhaled a weary sigh.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” He answered resolutely. Hvitserk gaped at him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Auisle chuckled in disbelief. Ivar held back a smirk as an idea crossed his mind.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t grant that favour because she won’t be of any use to me after, it’s rather unfortunate that she is quite alluring, isn’t it?” He sighed dramatically.

“What do you mean?” Auisle continued to laugh.

“I never told you she’s magic?” Ivar asked casually.

“No,” Olaf suddenly sat at attention. Hvitserk raised an eyebrow wondering where he was going with this.

“When I found Ethna in Eire, she was hiding, because she had a dream the night before of our attack,” Ivar began. Auisle scrunched up his face in confusion while Olaf leaned in eagerly. “From what I can tell, she is a type of Völva, different to ours, her goddess gives her dreams and visions of the future…” He explained, “But… she can only retain this ability given by her virgin goddess, if she herself remains a virgin.” Runi frowned at his words, glaring as Ethna’s mouth twitched up in a small poorly hidden smirk.

“I’ve heard of these women!” Olaf shouts excitedly, breaking the silence, “She’s a druidess, they are very rare.” Ivar nodded along pretending to know what he was talking about.

“How do you know she isn’t fooling you?” Auisle challenged.

“Some of her prophecies have come true, in fact, she could tell you something about your future, perhaps, as some ‘incentive’?” Ivar suggested. Ethna’s eyes widened.

“Fine, tell me thrall; How will I die?” Auisle demanded. Ivar beckoned her down toward him. “What are you doing?”Auisle asked suspiciously.

“Translating, her Norse is still quite poor,” Ivar explained and lent over to whisper Saxon in her ear, **“I am sorry, but it was the only thing I could think of-”**

 **“-I have never willingly sought out something, it might work but I do not know, tell him I will need the night to consult my ‘goddess’,”** she murmured back.

“She says she will need to consult her goddess tonight, she will be granted a vision and you will have your answer in the morning,” Ivar repeated.

“I wish to ask something too,” Olaf interjected, “Ask her; Will I ever be married?”

 **“Perhaps you could just make up answers,”** Ivar suggested.

 **“It might not be convincing, I have to try,”** She bit her lip then nodded at Olaf.

“Great! Now we celebrate, bring in the mead!” Olaf boomed.

* * *

 

Leaving the house to find the mead store and other slaves, Ethna let out a long sigh of relief and braced herself against a tree.

“ _Thank you Lord_ ,” she praised and continued to a small cart with a few slave boys milling around it.

“Have they finished already?” One asked. Now was her chance. She knew if anyone would know the real reason Auisle and Olaf were banished from their father's kingdom it would be the slaves.

“Yeah, thank the gods, I nearly falling asleep standing there, so boring,” she chattered.

“I know right?” One boy with skin like Ruth’s groaned, he looked to be the youngest out of the three, “You stand there all day, then you walk around after them all night, I haven’t felt my feet in years.”

“It’s probably worse for you, you’re a woman, they want you to stand around all day then, they want to hump you all night, no rest at all,” an older one shook his head, “Did Auisle ask for you?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Ha! I told you Lewys! You owe me two pieces,” the older one laughed at the third boy, Lewys.

“But my master, does not lend me to others,” Ethna smirked.

Lewys smiled and held out his hand, “Cough it up, Rufus.”

The older boy, Rufus, grumbled and pulled his a wooden Mjölnir pendant from around his neck.

“Why you bet on me and Auisle?” She asked as they gathered up some pitchers and cups and started towards Floki’s old house.

“He always gets what he wants, or who he wants,” the youngest one said.

“That is true, He has no shame that man,” Rufus shook his head, “Doesn’t matter if she’s married or a whore, not to him, he’ll still pursue her.”

“Is that why he was banished out of father’s kingdom?” She fished.

“Close,” Lewys cackled, “The snake finally found a skirt he couldn’t slither up, he was banished, by his own father, Olaf only travels with him out of pity.”

“What did he do?” she pressed.

“He laid with his father’s wife,” Rufus spat. Ethna recoiled in disgust.

“The second one, at least she wasn’t his mother,” the young dark boy clarified. She was surprised it had been so easy to get the information she wanted, but then again, they were all quite young, and probably didn’t know any better.

As they neared the door Ethna thought it best to introduce herself and make sure she had friends in this camp, “So Lewys, Rufus and?” She asked turning her head at the yet-unnamed boy.

“Akia,” he supplied, “You are?”

“Ethna,” she nodded.

“Anyway, a word of warning,” Rufus began, pulling the door open, “I wouldn't sleep alone tonight if I were you.”

* * *

 

He lay on his furs on the floor of Floki’s back room; a place he spent many nights of his youth. As far as he knew Olaf and Hvitserk were still outside drinking and exchanging tales. He also believed Auisle had sulked off with Runi as a somewhat consolation prize, although Ivar thought Runi seemed more enthusiastic than Auisle. The last he had seen of Ethna she was with the other slaves talking quietly amongst themselves. He wanted to get away from all the noise and just think.

This plan was quite audacious, but he convinced himself it would work. Things could go wrong, sure, but if worse came to worse and the spy got word of this plan, he reasoned they would be able to fight their way through it. besides, no one but him knew that he had another plan.

The floorboards creaked somewhere behind him and turned his head to see Ethna hanging sheepishly in the doorway.

“Ethna, what do you want?” He asked. She bit her lip and slowly stepped into the room.

“I want to say thank you,” she voiced finally, “I know you...uh...dangered your revenge for me, thank you.”

He only nodded, not wanting to complicate things. He then looked her down and realised she held her bedroll under her arm.

He frowned, “Cold?”

Ethna snorted,  “I am always cold in your country.” He chuckled and she gave him a lopsided grin. She then shook her head, as if shaking a thought from her mind and stepped closer. “Ivar…” She began hesitantly.

“Yes?” He asked and sat up.

“Um… may I… May I sleep here, with you, tonight?” She stuttered out.

He tilted his head trying to comprehend what she had just asked. She had never wanted to sleep anywhere near him before. In fact, quite often she would sleep as far away from him as possible, much to his dismay. What had changed? Had she realized he wouldn’t touch her as she slept? Did she finally feel comfortable around him? Or was there another reason? He then realised she was still standing there awkwardly, expecting an answer.

“Of course, of course,” he gestured to the floor beside him. He watched her carefully roll out her furs next to his and sit down to take her shoes off.

“I found Auisle’s secret,” she blurted as she laid down.

Ivar quirked an eyebrow, “Already? Aren’t you a clever little pet?”

She scowled at him, “I do not like be called pet.”

“You haven’t had a problem with it before,” he folded his arms behind his head cockily.

“I did not know what word meant before,” she eyed him sternly.

He held his hands up in mock surrender.  “Alright then, my auðr, please tell me what you found out about our dear friend Auisle?”

“What does auðr mean?” She pressed. He smirked and rolled away from her. “What does it mean?” She huffed and gripped his shoulders trying to roll him back to face her.

“I’ll tell you, if you tell me Auisle’s secret,” he sung slyly and turned back to face her with a smug grin.

She glared at him. “ **He was banished for sleeping with his father’s second wife, Olaf only follows him to keep his younger brother company,”** she divulged in Saxon then looked at him expectantly.

So, Auisle was an outlaw? Interesting, he thought to himself. Ivar grinned at her and rolled back over. It was far more fun to tease her.

“Tell me.” He heard her grumble in an annoyed tone. “Tell me, Ivar,” she groaned and tugged at his shoulder. “Tell m-” He rolled over suddenly, ending up half on top of her. She froze and went silent as he stared into her eyes. She was definitely no pet, not to him, she was far more than that.

“It means treasure,” he told her, tapping the tip of her nose before rolling off her and laying beside her. He heard her let out a long breath and he hoped that it wasn’t out of relief.

“Ivar… I wish, I wish you would not say such thing,” she sighed.

“Why?” He laughed propping himself up on his elbow so he could gaze at her.

She pursed her lips and quietly gathered her words. “Do you know I am… engaged… to Fabian.”

* * *

 

“I will meet you here in two days time when I hear from my friend, then, hopefully, you’ll go fishing,” Hvitserk farewelled.  Ivar sat on his chariot and nodded behind him. Hvitserk had no idea what had soured his mood. He was going to have his revenge, he should have been pleased. Yet Ivar had woken with a scowl. Bringing him out of his thoughts, Olaf smiled and brought him in for a bone crushing hug.

“See you soon,” he said and clapped Hvitserk’s back.

“Aren’t you are forgetting something?” Auisle suddenly piped up. Hvitserk looked to the blonde man and realised the question was not directed at him. Ivar with an expressionless face turned back to Ethna.

“Well?” He asked her. As Hvitserk climbed onto his horse he noticed Ethna’s solemn look, she didn’t even look at Ivar and muttered a few sentences in what Hvitserk assumed was Saxon. Ivar turned back to Auisle, “She says you will die fighting, in the company of your dearest friend, she says you will surely enter Valhalla,” Ivar monotonously stated, “And Olaf, she says you will marry twice on foreign shores.”

“Well good thing I don’t have friends,” Auisle laughed. Hvitserk spied as Ethna wincing out of the corner of his eye. Ivar shrugged and flicked the reigns and began the journey back to Kattegat. Hvitserk turned his horse around and waved goodbye.

Olaf smiled, “Safe travels my friends,” he nodded at him, “She’s a good one to keep around Ivar, hold on to her!” Olaf called after his brother. If he heard him, Ivar didn’t acknowledge him. Hvitserk spurred his horse to catch up with his brother’s chariot.

“You actually did it Ethna?” He asked in amazement. She only nodded absently from the back of Ivar’s chariot. “How did you see both answers? Was it hard?” He pressed, then added; “Can I ask a question?”

“It was not hard Hvitserk, both questions had the same answer,” she sighed.

Hvitserk frowned, “But they were completely different questions? And Auisle said he didn’t have friends, so, were you wrong?”

“Is Ubbe a dear friend to you Hvitserk?” Ethna looked at him mournfully. “Never ask to see fate for yourself, it not wise,” she warned him.

* * *

 

“I brought the things,” Ruth whispered and past Ethna the small sack. Ethna quickly glanced around the stables. Seeing no one, she crouched down on the floor and unpacked the two bowls of mushrooms and brushed aside some hay to reveal a barrel lid that covered a hole in the earth. Behind them, Ethna heard the stupid horse Coilean winnie and fuss. 

_“Shut up and I’ll give you an extra serve of oats,”_ she hissed in Gaeilge. He grew silent, smart horse.

She peeled back the lid to reveal all her hidden herbs and medicines. Grabbing a few jars of different concoctions. She used her stolen pestle and mortar to grind the ingredients together. “Are you setting the hall?” She turned to Ruth.

“Yes, what do you want me to do?” Her friend asked.

“Take these, find four kegs of mead, put half bowl in each. Use candle and draw cross on each lid of keg that has this in it. This way nobody see mark, we feel the top of each keg, if wax, tell the others do not drink that mead or give more than two cups to Helfrim or Ivar,” she explained.

Ruth nodded, “See you tonight,” she whispered before disappearing leaving Ethna alone with Coilean in the stables.

 _“Well, now the hard part,”_ She muttered and pulled out the book from her bag and turned to a familiar page _, “Let’s see:_ Maidenhair leaves, Barrenwort, Yohimbe and Ginseng,” she listed off as she took each jar and placed it in her bag, now all she needed was some boiling water and some luck.

* * *

 

“Ubbe,” She smiled and carried a drink over to him.

“Ah, Ethna. Enjoying the festivities?” He grinned and pulled Margrethe closer to him.

Ethna shrugged, “ It is alright, I have only been carrying drinks, not too much fun.”

“Oh,” Ubbe pouted. He had most definitely had some of the special mead.

“Nevermind, Ubbe may I speak to you in private?” She asked.

“I ddon’t think soo, wwwench, you’rrre not tak’in’ myy maaann,” Margrethe slurred.

Ethna suppressed an amused snort, “I would not dare Margrethe.”

Ubbe laughed and patted Margrethe on the head and led her to sit down on a bench.

“Be back soon my love,” he kissed her and turned to leave.

“What is it?” He asked once they were outside. There was a loud cheer somewhere behind her. She turned her head briefly to see a team of men hauling a massive log into the hall.

“I made the tonic,” she told him finally. Ubbe tilted his head in confusion then nodded letting out an understanding ‘oh’.

“Why?” Ubbe pried, “Did my plan finally work?”

Ethna raised an eyebrow, “What plan?” She asked with a laugh.

“My plan to get you two to-” he held up his hand and mashed his fingers together and accentuated the action with sound effects, “-like ugh ah hmm ugh, you know, and then Ivar would be happy and you would be happy and I’d be an uncle,” he stated proudly. Ethna stared at him somewhat mortified then shook herself out of it.

“Yes, that plan, Ubbe, it worked, so tonight, Ivar and I are going to…”

“Fuck!” Ubbe hiccuped enthusiastically.

“Yes, so I want you and Hvitserk to give privacy to us, no interruptions, we are a bit… shy,” she instructed.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Ubbe nodded seriously. Then smiled widely suddenly wrapping her in a hug. “You’re gonna love it, it feels amazing. You know, if you like something he does, moan louder, it is better and easier than asking, oh and spread your-”

“-Okay, thank you, that’s enough,” Ethna wiggled out of the hug and smiled awkwardly, “We will it figure out.”  He smiled giddily and proudly strode back towards the hall.

She sighed and saw Ruth, as planned standing near the door with Gylfi. Ruth laughing an obvious fake laugh that didn’t seem to phase the man. Now the nerves and adrenaline began to kick in, this was happening, now. Months of planning and weeks effort all boiled down to this moment.

As Ethna past Ruth, their eyes met and she nodded. This was it.

“Do you wanna go somewhere, quieter?” Ruth smiled seductively at him.

He frowned for a split second, “I don’t think my wif-” Ruth lent forward and placed a finger over his lips.

“I know a place no one will see,” Ruth whispered and took his arm smiling back at him coyly. He grinned dumbly and let her lead him off into the night.  

Ethna swallowed, _“Lord, forgive me, for what I’ve done, and, for what I must do,”_ she prayed and strode off to find Helfrim.

* * *

He rubbed his eyes, everything seemed a little blurry. The colours all around him were brighter, more vibrant, like he was seeing them for the first time all over again. It made him weirdly happy for no reason. The pleasing patterns of colour the dancing women’s dresses made as they swayed were hypnotising.  He watched people around him, laughing and clapping to the music. Past them sitting in the throne of the hall was his beautiful mother, dressed in her purple gown, she wore to feasts. Next to her was his father, and he was laughing with Floki. He grinned and raised his cup to them but found they were gone. Part of him felt that there was no way he had drunk enough mead to be seeing things, but another part of him didn’t care. He just felt so good, whatever it was in the mead was wonderful. He watched as out of the dancing crowd a familiar figure approached him.

Conflicting feelings waged a war within him as she sat down next to him and placed an arm on his shoulder. Ethna, beautiful Ethna. Clever and beautiful, but taken, Ethna. He didn’t know how to feel about her now. He was angry, but not at her, no, at that stupid man across the sea, Fabian, and at himself. He was just as angry at himself for not realising the reason she had been so resistant sooner, for not observing their interactions more carefully. Deep down, he admired Ethna for staying true to the red-haired man. Yet, it frustrated him. If only she could just let that man go and love him as much as he loved her.

“Do you want another drink Ivar?” She asked, her voice so melodious with that accent of hers. His eye swept her head to toe. He stated into the mossy eyes. At the same time he admired her for being faithful, he thought it stupidly noble, she was never going to see Fabian, he’d make sure of it. She just needed to figure that out.  She just needed to realise that he could be better than Fabian. She was his, the gods had meant for them to be together. She was his auðr.

He read her face’s inquisitive expression and remembered she had asked him a question.

“Yes, yes,” he nodded, “Ethna, you must try some too, it’s great!” Ethna smiled and poured him a drink from her pitcher. She then turned to a blonde woman walking past.

“ **Luta, is the mead any good?”** He heard her ask the thrall in Saxon.

 **“I trust it will be to your liking, Ethna,”** the thrall winked at her.

 **“Thank you, I am going to need this,”** Ethna sighed and took a cup from her tray. Ivar raised an eyebrow at her words. The thrall nodded then left them. Ethna turned to him and smiled. “To yule!” She raised her cup towards him.

“Skol!” He smiled and clinked his cup with hers. She tipped her cup to her lips and he reached out and held the bottom of her cup up. Ivar laughed at her surprise when more mead then she expected hit her lips and she was forced to keep drinking. Observing her anxious face plead with him, he retracted his hand with a chuckle. She sputtered and gulped in a few breaths.

“Steady Ivar, you try to drown me?” She laughed between coughs. He took another swig.

“Going steady is a terrible way to live my auðr,” he said to her with a smirk.

“Then perhaps we should not go steady,” she whispered in his ear. He shook his head and turned to her in surprise. Did she really say that, or was the mead talking?

“Sorry, what did you say?” He asked confused.

“Ivar I am going home, I am tired, I want to go to bed…” she got up and looked at back him with a look he had never seen on her before; A flirtatious smile. “...You should come.”

He stared after her as she disappeared. Maybe, she had had too much to drink? He had seen her drunk before, she may have dropped her inhibitions then, but not like this. He mulled it over, he didn’t want this if she was drunk.  If she wanted him, he wanted it to be real, not a drunken mistake. However, despite that notion, he was beginning to feel quite… needy. He looked around and spied who he was looking for, that blonde thrall.

“You there,” he beckoned.

The woman scurried over, “Yes prince Ivar?”

“How much has Ethna had to drink tonight?” He asked her.

“Pardon?” The thrall frowned and looked around somewhat panicked. She stopped swivelling her head and locked eyes with someone. Ivar turned to see who she was looking at and saw nobody specific. “Umm… uh… I don’t think she has had much to drink, just the one she asked for and shared with you, my prince,” Luta stammered then looked past him again, Ivar frowned at her, “Forgive me for stammering prince Ivar, I have had a bit too much to drink, if that is all I bid you good day, I mean good night,” she said and hastily retreated.  He didn't know what to make of the thrall’s strange behaviour but he was too gleeful to put too much thought into it.

The gods finally smiled upon him. There was no better night then the log burning, many young couples enjoyed this festival together. It was perfect. A voice told him it was too perfect, that something was wrong but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He picked up his crutches next to him and made his way out of the hall,  his head still somewhat fuzzy but the rest of him was thrilled.

* * *

A stone dropped in her stomach as guilt settled in. It moved her that Ivar actually considered asking if she was not in her right mind, even when he himself was definitely not. It hurt her to think that he cared for her.

“I'm sorry I didn’t know what to do, I panicked...you just asked if the mead was okay then he…”Luta stammered in front of her.

“It okay, I sorry, I did not think he would… not want to. But I think he did not noticed, he is not at his best,” she consoled. “Thank you for your help Luta and thank all the others,” she smiled at her.

“Ethna, may I ask, what is this all for?” Luta inquired.

“It's for Ardney, Luta that is all I can tell you,” Ethna stated, raising her hood up and slipping out of the door unnoticed.

* * *

 

He cracked open the door slowly and peaked in. His eyes widened in shock. There in the darkness was Ethna, naked, sitting on the bed expectantly. His mouth fell open.

“I’ve been expecting you,” she smiled. This couldn’t be real, his mind screamed at him that this had to be whatever was in the mead. She reached out towards him offering her hand. He took a few steps and reached out half expecting the apparition to disappear. Instead, his fingertips met her warm hands and she guided him to sit on the bed next to her, even helping him swing his legs up.

“You’re here, you’re actually here,” he murmured in surprise.

“Of course I’m here my prince, where else would I be?” She laughed. She shifted to face him. In the scant light, he couldn’t see what expression she was wearing but he glanced down and was granted a view of her perky breasts on display, for him. His breath hitched.

“Why are you doing this? What changed?” He asked with a tilt of his head. She reached forward and took his hands into her own and began to unbuckle his bracers.  

“You said you wanted me, you called for me, I’ve wanted you for such a long time, but I was afraid,” she whispered. She removed his bracers from his hands and let them fall somewhere on the floor.

In the dim light, he saw her tilt her head at him and he realised she had caught him staring at her breasts. He averted his eyes quickly and he heard a small chortle. “Do you want to touch them?” She asked and straddled his thighs. He didn’t really know how to respond. He wanted to. Oh, gods, he wanted to. Yet, something just didn’t feel right. He couldn’t think straight. He knew there was something he was missing, something staring him right in the face but in the haze of ecstasy, he couldn’t place it.  He was drawn from his worries when he felt her gently take his wrists in her hand and guide them to her chest. He let out a breathy groan at the warm and fleshy feeling of them resting in his palms. Fascinated, he squeezed and toyed with them until he heard the most beautiful sound he had ever heard; a loud wanton sigh that he caused. He grinned and repeated the motion. This time a delicious moan left her lips. Under his fingertips, he felt the small buds of her nipples become harder. He rolled them in between his fingertips. “Oh Yes, like that, like that,” she groaned and threw her self forward on to him. He grinned, a feeling of pride swelling in his chest. She wanted him. She was moaning for him. He could do this. Tonight he could prove everybody wrong.

 His own breaths became heavy as he let his hand wander down her stomach, feeling the soft flesh. Her face drifted closer to his and for a second he believed she would ask him to stop, but instead he heard; “Kiss me Ivar, please.” He nodded and steeled himself as he leant forward and let his hand slide up her body to cup her face. Before he could lean forward she eagerly intercepted him and latched her lips onto his. He gasped in surprise and she took the opportunity to invade his mouth with her tongue. After the initial shock, he joined in the heated dance, he didn’t really know exactly what to do. However, Ethna surprisingly led him around her mouth. After a few seconds of clumsily poking her teeth, they were moaning into each other. He felt her hands intertwine in his braids and tug him closer. He copied the motion and let his hand work up her neck and along her braid till he found the tie and loosed it. She broke the kiss for a second and panted with him as they caught their breaths.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” He whispered to her. She giggled and lent in letting her hands push against his chest and travel down to the hem of his tunic, tugging at it.

“Show me your gorgeous body, my prince,” she eagerly moaned against his lips before delving into another kiss.  He exhaled deeply at her words. He was desired. She had called his body gorgeous. For the first time in his life, he was truly wanted by someone, and that someone was Ethna. He eagerly helped her, breaking the kiss again as he passed his tunic over his head. He leant forward into her, trying to press his chest against hers, explore her but she held up her hands and half-heartedly held him back. Oh no, he lamented.

“What is it?” He queried wondering what he had done wrong.

“Lie back,” she ordered in a husky tone, “Gods, I need to ride you now!”  He took heavy breaths and realised this is where it would all go wrong.

“I...I.. can’t,” he swallowed. She would be so disappointed. Despite his warning, she continued to press him back. She tilted her head curiously then rolled her hips against his experimentally. He gasped as a shock of pleasure wracked his body. How was this possible? He asked himself. He had never been able to stay hard for this long before.

“Are you sure my prince? Because I think your friend down there disagrees,” she chuckled and ground her hips to emphasise her point. He cursed, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull. Had the gods blessed him tonight? Was this a sign of their approval of his plan for vengeance. “Lay back, let me take good care of you Ivar,” she whispered and molded her lips over his. He groaned into the kiss and let himself fall back on to the bed. At his point, the subconscious of his mind began to question if this wonderful woman was his timid Ethna, but the conscious part found he was enjoying this far too much to stop or care who was giving him this wonderful pleasure. He was honestly just so thrilled that she was so needy for him. He smiled widely as she did away with his trousers in a fluster and positioned herself above him. Right now, he felt so high right and he knew it had nothing to do with the mead. Excitement buzzed through his veins. He let out a guttural moan as she sunk down on him. The needy thing took him all in one go, wrapping her warmth around him, letting him feel her slickness. She screamed, but not in terror or pain as she clung to his chest, pressing close to him. He grasped her hips and held her down on him. She let out a whimper and began to rock her hips frantically.

“Ivar!” She gasped and he beamed up at her. It appeared he could please a woman. He was truly a man now, and no one could argue otherwise.

* * *

 

“This is a long way to go to for secrecy, pretty thing,” she heard Gylfi chuckle. He tugged Ruth to him and backed her up against a tree. Ethna’s fist clenched as she remained crouched behind a tree trunk at the edge of the clearing. She glanced at Seumas next to her, clad in the sackcloth they had swiped.

“Now?” She mouthed. He held his hand up and shook his head.  Ethna growled as she watched that murmuring bastard feel Ruth up. She couldn't stand watching this much longer.

“Not yet,” Ruth told him and slipped past under his arm, “You'll have to catch me first,” she teased as she ran off into the trees laughing.

“So you want to play hide and seek? Good thing I'm good at seeking,” he grinned and began to whistle, slowly pacing to where he last saw Ruth.

“Now,” Seumas whispered. “I’ll go left, ye go right.” She nodded creeping towards Gylfi from the right while Seumas circle behind him to come from the left.

“Come out come out wherever you are…” He sung. Ahead of him, Ruth darted across his line of sight. Now was her chance. As he sprinted towards Ruth, Ethna sprung from the shadows and struck him in the throat the to stun him. While he choked and gagged, she gripped his far shoulder, stepped a leg behind his knee and flung him to the ground using his own body weight. Seumas stepped out from his hiding place and grinned at her.

“Nice job wee shite, but yer stance could be wider,” he commented as he produced a rope. Ethna rolled her eyes, with him, there was always room for improvement.

“What? W-who are you? Get your hands off me!” Gylfi struggled as he recovered from being winded. Seumas wrestled his hands together and bound them. “W-what are you doing? What are you doing?” He panicked. Ruth appeared behind them and he locked eyes with her. “Help me! Please.” Ruth shook her head and Ethna watched Gylfi’s face fall. Seumas dragged him by the back of his tunic to the tree at the edge of the clearing with the thickest trunk and began securing him to it. “Seumas?” Gylfi questioned, “Seumas why are you doing this? Has your master sent you-”

“Ye murdered my wife!” Seumas screeched with rage.

“What? You don’t have a wife, you're a thrall… wait, is that Ivar’s thrall?” Gylfi squinted at her. “Wait you’re all thralls! I will have you all flogged for this, what are you going to do, leave me here? You think you can get-”

“Shut yer gob! Or I'll shut it for ye,” Seumas slapped the older man across the face and Gylfi was stunned silent. “Good, now tell me, why'd ye do it?”

“Do what?”

“Why'd ye kill her ye bastard!” Seumas punched Gylfi hard in the face, making Ruth flinch. “Was yer wife that upset with ye?” Seumas pounded him again and Gylfi cried out. “Was my child going to ruin it for ye?” He accentuated with another punch, “Or couldn't ye bear the thought of her with another man?” He yelled and shoved the man's bloody head against the tree trunk.

“Help me!” Gylfi screamed at no one in particular. Ethna squirmed when Seumas delivered a blow to the man’s chest and she heard the sickening crack of ribs. Ruth looked away.

“No one can hear ye, we’re too far away from anyone, we checked,” Seumas sneered, “Now answer the question, why’d ye kill Ardney?”

“Ardney? I didn’t kill her, she was my favourite, I loved her!” He gritted through bloodstained teeth. Ethna quaked with rage and strode forward.

“You did not love her, you did not mourn her, you did not bury her!” She screamed at him. Seumas moved aside in surprise as Ethna pushed past him and gently laid her hands on Gylfi’s chest. “You did not ask weregild for her,” Ethna shook her head and whispered gently feeling up his chest until he flinched, she smiled.

“Lass, what’re ye doin’?” Seumas asked confused.

Undeterred, Ethna stared into Gylfi’s dark brown eyes, “If you did love her...” she drew her hand back slightly, “...You should feel like this now.” She pounded his cracked rib and forced it further into his body.  He screamed and howled in agony. Ruth gasped and clapped her hands over her ears, turning away from the scene. Gylfi groaned and wheezed, coughing up blood that dribbled down his chin.

“I didn’t do it, please stop, I didn’t kill her, I didn’t kill her,” he cried. His pained begging shook something within her and Ethna stepped back, trembling again, but this time not from rage.

“Stop lyin’ and make this easier on ye’self, just tell us why ye did it and this will all stop,” Seumas proposed.

Gylfi wheezed and coughed, “Okay, okay, please just stop, I’ll tell you,” he pleaded.

Seumas crouched back in front of him and nodded for him to go on. “I-I killed her… because she came to me and said she was with child… My wife, she couldn’t know… she’d leave me, so… I  k-killed her, I slit her throat and killed her,” he stammered. Ethna stiffened. Seumas heaved heavy breaths and pulled an axe from his back. “W-what are you doing? You said you’d let me go,” he struggled against his ropes.

“I never said I’d let ye go, how could I after you killed my wife and my child?” Seumas choked out in anger.

“You can’t kill me! Y-you’re thralls! You are thralls, I command you!” He panicked. Seumas stalked forward. “You won’t get away with this!” Gylfi screamed. Ethna watched on, a queasy feeling creeping within her.

“No we can get away with killin’ you,” Seumas corrected him and grinned wickedly at him, “Killin’ is easy, any old fool can kill a man,  it’s hiddin’ the body, that’s the hard part. That takes brains,” he grinned proudly back at Ethna. She swallowed, she wasn’t so sure about this, but it was too late now, they had to follow through. In the distance, somewhere a wolf’s howl echoed across the trees and Ethna shivered as a chorus of howls joined it. “We have had many moons to plan how to get rid of yer corpse, we’ve been leaving scraps, and scenting the area for a long time now and it sounds like it paid off, ye’r just in time for dinner,” Seumas chuckled and raised the axe bringing it down on Gylfi’s crotch. A blood-curdling wail filled the air. Ruth yelped, latching onto Ethna, burying her face in her shoulder. Ethna stood starring, unable to pull her eyes away as Seumas swung his axe into Gylfi’s again and again. Seumas hacked away the at the ribs and Ethna felt bile rise in her throat.  By the time Seumas ripped the beating organ from the body, she knew Gylfi had died around the second strike. Seumas tilted his head back and screamed with rage, the moonlight glinting off his tears as he shoved the heart into Gylfi’s mouth. She whimpered. Seumas no longer looked like her friend and protector, in that moment; he was a rabid animal. Ethna pushed Ruth away from her and braced herself against a tree as she vomited.

Seumas heaved heavy breaths and stepped back from the bloody mess and cut away the ropes, “It’s done,” he remarked. Picking up the axe he staggered into the forest, back toward Kattegat. Ruth patted Ethna's back and rubbed circles around her shoulders.

“You okay?” Ruth whispered. The wolves’ mournful cries were getting louder. Ethna shook her head.

“Come on, we have to go, let them take care of it,” Ruth and walked forward to untie the first small scrap of fabric from the branch, marking the way back.

* * *

 

“Ruth?” Ethna asked shakily as tears leaked from her eyes.

“Yes?” She answered and tugged Ethna along gently by the wrist.

“Did Seumas see Ardney before we clean and dress her?” She asked quietly.  Ruth stopped to untie another marker from a branch and shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so,” she answered and kept leading her through the forest.

“So… he do not know that she died from her womb being taken… her throat was not cut,” Ethna sobbed. Ruth halted, standing still as a statue

“Oh my gods!” Ruth clapped a hand over her mouth, “Oh Gods!”

“We kill innocent man,” Ethna sniffed, “And it was so... horrible.”

“Oh gods, Oh gods! Ethna, you knew! Why didn’t you tell Seumas to stop?!” Ruth cried and gripped her shoulders shaking her.

“We hurt Gylfi, we tie him up, we do too much, we could not stop, we were too far in, he had to die or he would tell,” Ethna murmured, “I am going to hell!”

“We can’t tell Seumas,” Ruth distraughtly told her, “Ethna this will destroy him!”

* * *

 

It was very late when Ubbe woke to the sound of the doorknob rattling. He furrowed his eyebrows, he thought everyone was home? He sat up in his chair where he had slumped onto the table. The door swung open and a tall, feminine figure crept inside and shut the door gently.

“Ethna?” Ubbe questioned in confusion. He thought she was in bed with Ivar? He got up when she didn’t answer him. “Ethna, I thought you were with Ivar?” She still didn’t speak as she trudged past him toward the basin. If she was here, then who was with Ivar? His heart began to beat in his chest. “What have you done to Ivar?” He clamped down on her shoulders.

“He is fine,” she choked out, “He is with Helfrim.” Helfrim? He loosened his grip and she moved to wash her hands. He heard her sniffle. He snatched her hands and turned her to face him. Her hood fell away to reveal a tear-stained and pained face. He looked down at her hands and saw nothing on them.

“Ethna, what have you done?” He questioned. She burst into tears and fell forward into him, hiding her face in his chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her thin frame.

“Something terrible, Ubbe,” she sobbed.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo… that is the end of the second arc and a monster of a chapter. I was going to split this in two but I after consulting my hero Ceridwenofwales thought it better to post in one big chapter to not draw it out any longer and be done with it and have a clean break with not much of a cliffhanger. Also, my first time writing somewhat smut. Also for those who were curious:  
> \- The whale Hvitserk is talking about is called a bowhead whale.  
> \- Auðr can be a name or a word, it is anglicised to Aud (like Aud the Deep-Minded) it means; precious, wealth or treasure.  
> \- And yes the Auðr, in the MCU Loki AU one-shot I did called Deal is Ethna, obviously quite a while into the future. 
> 
> Thank you to all you wonderful people who have left kudos and comments, you guys keep me inspired. If you have questions or queries or just want a chat you're most welcome to comment or send me messages on my Tumblr [@burntmythroatskullingmytea](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/)  
> (where all my Ivar trash goes)  
> Also, there is character mail, where you can go on my Tumblr and leave a question for one of the characters to answer, you can check it out with the tag or here: [Character Mail ](https://burntmythroatskullingmytea.tumblr.com/search/character%20mail)


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